Although Marash Girl has yet been able to get her mint to grow wild, she has, thanks to Helene, been able to grow a tamer variety of mint in a big old galvanized tub right outside her kitchen door -- her kitchen garden, as it were. Gathering that mint this year before the frost hit brought to mind the mint that grew rampant on the hillside at her childhood home, the hot anoukh that her mother prepared whenever anyone in the family fell ill, and what she (Marash Girl) found on the day that her father passed away . . . there arranged over the surface of the bed in the guest bedroom was his last harvest of mint, carefully spread out to dry on opened brown paper grocery bags, enough mint to last, as it turned out, his lifetime.