Do you remember those days? I loved the Sunday newspaper. How it was really fat, fat enough that everyone had a favourite section and took it off into a corner like a dog with a bone. I also loved how – if you got… Continue Reading “Sunday Mornings used to be Coffee and Newspapers.”
Another big farm to table lunch being prepared as I write. Amanda and I will be cooking all morning then eating and drinking all afternoon. We will be seating twelve. Today I am featuring great, big, juicy heirloom tomatoes. I am off out to… Continue Reading “Farm to table”
I still love the snow. But I am always grateful when I see the snow-plough rushing down our little gravel road clearing a path for me. Sunday yesterday. A quiet day. Look at this naughty big fat pig following me around bossing everybody about.… Continue Reading “Ploughed out – again”
It seems we had a day of cameos. Solo performances. A Sunday. Son of Son of Neanderthol Man. Just watching. Author with his big liquid baby eyes. The Duke Of Kupa on the prowl. Paisley Daisy does calm Sunday very well. Sheila the Babe… Continue Reading “Sunday Farm Cameos”