Taste. See.

Tastes of our weekend:

rye toast and black tea.
greek yogurt swirled the last of Grandma's elderberry jam.
swedish sweet rolls and coffee.
homemade pizza: onions, caramelized in balsamic, scallions and feta.
rhubarb pie for dessert.

We spent Saturday in a happy haze. Happy because it was warm. Happier because he was not at work. Happiest because walking to the market to purchase fresh rhubarb and tomato plants is one of the best things you can do on a Saturday morning.

Yesterday the weather turned cold and foggy. That is what spring is like. Everything is the greenest it will ever be. The house behind us was auctioned off. As the bidders crowded round the white fence, we peeked out the second-story window, watching, as any good neighbor will do.

I am fascinated by the history of old houses. The stories they could tell.


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