Pie with irisLate, I'm late. As always. The house smells nicer, though.
Off to Paris with my pie.
....
Il y a 6 heures
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Thoughts provoked by an old house in need of renovation, its garden, a marriage lived within its walls, and of a retired Thoroughbred race horse named Fibs and Flannel.
A caution
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-- Harriet Rubin
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3 commentaires:
WANTS IT. WE WANTS IT, MY PRECIOUS.
Grandma Briggs made a luscious rhubarb pie when we were up for a weekend in June 1961 (Note date.)
Moral of the story: Do NOT ever eat rhubarb pie when six months pregnant!
But you could UPS overnight us one now.
One considers being tempted to know the reason for the moral of the story...
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