Another busy week, but after tomorrow, the farm is officially closed.
The beets finally got big enough to make borscht.
I do believe I made the best damn scones of my life.
Which were improved upon by devonshire cream and of course,
Missing Goat Strawberry Black Pepper Jam.
I can't find Lola's eggs anywhere.
And she seems to be rather smug about it.
But I think she tried to make up for it with this offering.
Let me clarify this shot...
...three yolks came out of one egg.
Today really seemed like fall to me.
And the signs are everywhere.
Hydrangeas turning green...
...this fallen branch...
...leaves on the lawn.
For years, I was a closet pen thief. I stole pens from anyone and everyone who dared hand me one.
Post offices, Greenpeace petitioners, banks, friends, public raffles, check out clerks...and yes, even
It became an obsession.
They weren't fancy pens, it wasn't about that.
It was the simple thrill of the casual steal.
Today, I reached over the fence to the neighbours yard, and stole once again.
It's the home of the mean old man who abandoned his animals, threatened to shoot us (often), swore at us, then became old and alone.
He has since moved on from this life to what I can only imagine a hotter place.
If you know what I mean.
The place is now rented and has fallen to shame.
So...I stole some plums.
Have you ever reached over the fence and pinched something good?