Forsooth!

The forsythia have started to bloom at the tiny park around Dyckman House (the last farmhouse in Manhattan, now a small museum with a nice garden and some reconstructed Revolutionary War–era buildings), as has the magnolia. But it's forsythia that means Spring to me, as much as crocus, and more than all the daffodils that are gloriously yellow today. I also pulled up the season's first maple sprout, from one of the street trees I garden around. There just isn't room for a maple tree there.

I only wish I had as much energy as those plants.

Forsooth!

The forsythia have started to bloom at the tiny park around Dyckman House (the last farmhouse in Manhattan, now a small museum with a nice garden and some reconstructed Revolutionary War–era buildings), as has the magnolia. But it's forsythia that means Spring to me, as much as crocus, and more than all the daffodils that are gloriously yellow today. I also pulled up the season's first maple sprout, from one of the street trees I garden around. There just isn't room for a maple tree there.

I only wish I had as much energy as those plants.

(no subject)

I made papersky's fine poetic apple cakelings this afternoon, using a Royal Gala because they're good right now. I don't quite see how she got a dozen cakelings out of that recipe: I got nine, filling none of the cups more than a quarter full. I can easily see how zorinth ate five in one evening, though: ours are all gone, despite a nice filling roast chicken dinner cattitude made this evening. (Okay, we ate 2/3 of them before dinner.)

(no subject)

I made papersky's fine poetic apple cakelings this afternoon, using a Royal Gala because they're good right now. I don't quite see how she got a dozen cakelings out of that recipe: I got nine, filling none of the cups more than a quarter full. I can easily see how zorinth ate five in one evening, though: ours are all gone, despite a nice filling roast chicken dinner cattitude made this evening. (Okay, we ate 2/3 of them before dinner.)