It's nice to know people who have have their own fruit trees . . .
and like to share.
Did you know that pears don't ripen on their trees?
They need to be plucked, hard and green, and left to ripen all by their little old lonesomes.
Howard and I learned that from our friends who gave us these:
These chubby little beauties are almost ready to meet their fates.
I think they are going to be delicious, but right now I think they are pretty darned photogenic.
I spent way too much time rearranging them and snapping pictures.
The pear on the left got tired, and lay down -- poor little thing.
Hey, what's the guy in the middle doing?
Is he turning his posterior to us? How rude!
Okay, now this guy really is being quite fresh. Fresh pear.
(Don't you just want to draw a bikini bottom on the pear, below? Am I confessing to something disturbing?)
But in the end, I win. I have the fruit knives.
(Don't you just want to draw a bikini bottom on the pear, below? Am I confessing to something disturbing?)
But in the end, I win. I have the fruit knives.
Yum.
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And now for something completely different.
Last spring, daughter Anne took an architecture course,
which inspired me to brush up on architecture terminology.
So I didn't stare blankly at her when she described buildings to me.
So I didn't stare blankly at her when she described buildings to me.
Words like pilaster, architrave, caryatid, fenestration, cartouche, entabulature, and enfilade.
Enfilade.
Doesn't that sound like a good cut of prime beef? Mmmm. . . enfilade au poivre.
Just kidding! I looked it up, and enfilade means a series of rooms, aligned so that you can look through the doors from one room into another, very popular in European palaces and manors -- one room opening into another.
So, I had to look for some enfilade at That Old House.
Not exactly palatial. And not exactly planned to give pleasing vistas,
as it's just the view from the front hall into the dining room, and then into the butler's pantry area.
And, from where I sit at my desk, I see this:
From the corner of the study, through the center hall, and into the parlor.
In our 5th home together, Howard and I lived in what's called a railroad flat in New York City, where the rooms were lined up one after the other, and opened into each other. Railroad flats also have narrow hallways along their sides, so you can access some of the rooms without going through others. It was a wonderful quirky place to live -- big, with high ceilings and two fireplaces -- no central heat! -- and, yes, enfilade views.
Can you find an enfilade vista in your home?
So I am guessing that I'll be the very last blogger to join Cielo's
You know the Craigslist tables I showed on Friday? Haven't bought any yet! Craigslist can take time and patience. -- Cass
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