|Bonus tip: do not refer to it as "summertime" before June 21st in front of my 4-year-old unless you are in the market for some angry tears of remonstrance.|
Time for a The Book Lover's Cookbook poetry break: "Blueberries" by Robert Frost. Here is the poem in its entirety; just know that the selection in the book leaves out all the funny parts and also the tragically impoverished children, as is its style. I assumed I would make First-Picking Blueberry Muffins in the fall, since Robert Frost was a New Englander and in my mind it is always autumn in New England. Or, like, Christmas Eve. I genuinely believe it just cycles between October and Christmas Eve up there and I won't hear otherwise. You may as well claim it isn't always summer in Australia or winter in Minnesota while you're at it.
Anyway, I recently started seeing "first of the season" blueberries in the store, so here we are. I know they look like a mess in the picture, but that's only because they were a mess in real life.
|I have been blaming my baking powder through about three different cans of baking powder now, but I think it's the baking powder.|
Anna Being Made To Pose For Pictures On The Occasion Of Her First Dance Recital: A Story In Four Parts.