Crepe myrtle reflections

In this picture, these crepe myrtle blossoms exhibit a warm red hue, but in the sunlight yesterday afternoon, they looked like the raspberry sherbet served long ago at Dipper Dan's, a small independent ice cream shop where I worked briefly when in high school.

The pay was $1 per hour and all you could eat, and I ate more than my share of raspberry sherbet. So did all my friends, who would pay 15 cents for a single dip, but I'd pile three scoops on, squishing them down as far as possible in an attempt to make them look like a single dip.

The owner was kind; he let me get away with it, probably because I didn't have hoards of friends, just a handful. He grinned as he watched them plunk down their dimes and nickels and slip out the door, their tongues darting to catch dribbles of sweet, sticky goo that slid down the cones onto their fingers.

Has anything you've seen recently brought back memories from days long gone? If so, I'd love it if you shared them in the comments section.

Copyright  ©  2013 by Laura McHale Holland