Saturday, September 1, 2018

You May Not Give a Fig,

Dear Reader, but my fortune has recently taken an unexpected upturn in the form of figs--fabulous, fresh figs!!  They were plucked from the fig bushes this very morning by the person gifting me with them, and delivered from Virginia to my Pennsylvania door this very afternoon.

It was Elder Brother of Mine who stopped by late this afternoon, en route from delivering a niece of mine to college.  I knew that he was coming, and I knew that he would be spending the night.  The figs, however, were a grand surprise!

Elder Brother grows these figs, and he brought six varieties.  Most, he said, were at their peak of ripeness.











I swooned!

Reader Dear, I fell upon those figs like a greedy child with candy, and I ate them with a passion.


I do like fresh* figs!


*If you've never eaten one, this should be on your bucket list: Find a fig straight off the bush.  Handle it gently, feeling its lovely tumescent body.  Bite into it.  Admire its beautiful interior.  Savor the succulent sweetness.  Consume it.**
**You'll dance with glee!

****************

Friday, August 31, 2018

And Here He Is

My Itty-Bitty Actor,
recorded live:


Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens

from My Favorite Things,
The Sound of Music

..........

And, Viewer Dear, here he is in a rare seldom-seen bath-time performance of El Condor Pasa,
the Simon and Garfunkel song.




I'd rather be a hammer than a nail
Yes I would
If I only could
(If )  I surely would.


That's it!

.....................................

Monday, August 27, 2018

Musical Catch-up!

I've been getting my usual musical highs for the past several weeks, but neglecting to share with you, Listener Dear. 

These two Sunday evening concert performances I'll show you were so different from each other in some ways--note how the audiences did not behave in a similar manner, though both groups were quite appreciative (based on applause).  The instrumentalists had similar instruments, however, and all played enthusiastically.

First, I've got: Black Violins.











These musicians were playing at the wide-open park where the Yard Man and I typically spend our Sunday summer evenings.  There was a steady rain falling when the concert was scheduled to begin, and we surmised it had shrunk the crowd.  Even so, there was a sea of umbrellas.

And then, voila, as the violin notes began to rain on us, the raindrops ceased their reign!

I gushed to The Yard Man all the way home.
"Wow, that genre-crossing thing is so creative!"







Next, I've got:  TENET and the Sebastians
This concert was under a roof, required a pricey ticket,  and involved far more staid performers, not to mention prim and proper audience members. Nevertheless, I was gushing all the way home from this concert, as well!  My favorite--Baroque! Authentic instruments!  So glad our good friends nudged us!  (Well, Reader Dear, they told us about the concert; then they said, "We live so close to Mt. Gretna*, just come to our house and we'll go together.")
*It's a half-hour trip for the Yard Man and myself to this small, artsy venue in the woods.**
**A chautauqua.***
***Look it up, Curious One.







Okay. Listener Dear, I've got one more musical rendition that has demanded a showing.
It's a totally different genre.  A totally different style of performance.  A totally different kind of performerThis performance, recently recorded, is in such a class by itself that I've decided  it will have to wait for a blog-post spot of its own.

(i.e. The End)

Friday, August 24, 2018

Wednesday, August 22, 2018

Forgive Me, Reader Dear

IT's OH, SO CORNY!







The Yard Man pulled ears off the stalks of corn that he grew.  He husked them and threw them in a box for me.

I cooked the ears and we ate right off the cob as much as we could hold.  The excess, I blanched (a brief scalding) and cut off the cobs, put into bags, and froze.

 Reader Dear, it's like yellow gold in the freezer!  There's roughly enough for a one-bag withdrawal per week until we see another full moon of late summer and another few rows of corn standing rustling and ready in tassels and full ears.