The Sugar Canister 8x10

My mother loved food, loved to cook it; hence, she was a good cook. The center of our home was the kitchen and the "den,"which included a big table.  Family gatherings always involved good food and a lot of it. Her kitchen was always "in process," meaning something was on the bar, on the stove, in mid-preparation. Things were always happening in the kitchen. Bowls were out, ingredients were staged on the bar, and FOOD was being called into existence. Her brownstone canisters were a mainstay of this culinary landscape. In contrast, I don't even own a set of kitchen canisters. I enjoy clean counters, NO CLUTTER. If I want something I get it out, use it, and back it goes. How this contradiction of genetic code happened, I don't know. I consider kitchen canisters a nuisance, something else to clean and deal with. Sorry Mom. You gave me so much, but the canisters went with the wind.