My grandmother gazes out of the kitchen window, trying to avoid the budding, 17-year-old photographer (me) pestering her while she tries to prepare lunch. Hanging in her beloved kitchen was a needlepoint on which the following words were embroidered; "No matter where I serve my guests, it seems they like my kitchen best." Her large, inviting kitchen was the heart and nucleus of her house, and was loved by all who were entertained there. (St. George's, 1971)   Submitted By: Steve Adam