There is a big basket full of clementines, pomegranates, a pineapple, and a blue hubbard squash on the table. There are apples and beets and cabbage and carrots and celeriac and so forth in the fridge. I'm making borscht today. I'd be making pieroshkis too, but I'm supposed to be eating healthier, and lovely little pastry puffs fried in butter are, alas, not healthy.
But I made a roast chicken for dinner last night*, stuffed with citrus, garlic, and onions. (This is not a stuffing you eat, but mmm is it good in what it does to the meat.) And I have fruit! All the wonderful winter fruit! I may be forced to eat clementines for a week and a half!
Oh noes! OH NOES!
Life is very good. Except that the dog food bag broke open when I tossed it over the gate into the back yard last night, so there's kibble everywhere. Whupsie. The pigeons sent a thank-you note.
*While I was at World Fantasy, my mother-in-law and my husband appear to have hidden the meat thermometers (both of them !?), so if I die of salmonella, you know who to sue.