Sundays are always a nice day to make brunch, and if I do say so myself, I make pretty good pancakes. Of course they're from a box, but I've discovered the "right" box mix to use. The other day I bought a bag of beautiful little apples. So I cut up some apples to cook on the pancakes. A trick my mother used to do. You put the batter in the pan and then arrange apple slices on top of the batter. When you flip them, the apples cook up just right. Put a little cinnamon in the batter and it's even better! They came out perfectly. Of course I had forgotten to check to see if I had any maple syrup. Unfortunately I didn't. (Did you know that maple syrup can be made in only two places in the world? The northeast US, and a certain province in Canada. My Canadian friends will be offended that I don't know which one off the top of my head. Is it Quebec perhaps? ) Well, no maple syrup, so I took out a bag of frozen raspberries and whipped up some raspberry syrup. Finally I scrambled some eggs, and I made myself a cup of Oregon Chai, with just the right amount of milk in it. I even made it frothy. Ahhhh...good food, a sunny day, the laundry all finished last night! What more could one ask for? Maybe not having to do my income taxes. Procrastination...procrastination...will she get them finished or won't she?
One always knows when it's spring around here. Baseballs begin showing up in the back yard. Little League starts up. All kinds of kids in their uniforms start playing ball. Parents calling out their support. And eventually on the weekends especially, one gets to hear the Star Spangled Banner sung about 4 or 5 times a day over a rather annoying loudspeaker.
Now, this is really weird, but the other day I was walking with the dog in the field (not the little league field). This field is full of land mines...of course here in the quiet foothills of the Catskills, they aren't real land mines. Just piles of poop. Is that allowed to be written? I hope so, I don't know what else to call it...manure perhaps? Feces is the more technical term. There is a lot of deer droppings in the big field. But there is dog leavings as well. I usually pick up after mine, but not everyone is so conscientious. The only ones who usually walk in that field are the deer, the dogs and the owners of the dog. So I guess it's to be expected. But the other day there was a particularly large pile of dog doo. And right in the middle on top sat a golf ball. Now I'm betting there is an interesting story behind that. I'm not sure I want to know it in detail however. Better to leave some things alone. Needless to say, I did not take photos to share. Aren't you glad?
Wow...started this blog with a lovely description of Sunday brunch here, and ended up in the outhouse. Well, it is the cycle of life!
Happy Sunday.
Caris
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