OK, besides the butter–is the gardens. Today I took this picture in the Prinsentuin, a walled garden so beautiful I was sure it was private property. On a gray day like today, when not even the thought of apples (the weirdest and most persistent of the food cravings to date) could make me want to go to the market, I found a little bit of light and color in the garden.
have been battened down. Or, at least, the tomato plants have been helicopter mommied into the french door alcove in the garden so they don’t get hailed to bits.
Right after the tragic World Cup loss (I don’t want to talk about it, except to say that my dad always says if you’re not getting fouls you’re not playing defense, so get off your moral high horse), we had a series of freak summer storms, lasting Sunday night through Monday late afternoon. Continue reading
Here we sat, Sunday, in the midst of the great Eyjafjallajokull eruption. Thousands of people are stranded, or have had their long-planned trips ruined. It’s just occurred to us that imports and exports to/from Holland may soon be affected (especially as regards produce and/or wine). But on Sunday, it was definitely spring in Groningen, 62 and sunny, and this is what it looked like under the ash. Continue reading
Poking a little dead dot into some dirt, covering it with more dirt, and believing it will become food is the purest hope there is. Now I know what compels people to plant seeds.
I dragged Nate out to look at the bluebells in the garden, and what I thought was a faded-out bluebell is a hellebore! Only one so far but maybe I'll get lucky.
