Waiting for me on the kitchen counter this morning is the jar of chickpeas I left to soak in water overnight. I think I’m half in love with them. They come to the house in a bag made of burlap – not plastic! – which I hold up to my nose every chance I get, breathing in a scent that seems to have gotten lost along the way, something that’s possibly a reminder for me of ancestral barns and lofts full of hay.