Last weekend, while on the maple syrup trail, Marc and I ended our day at a local farm stand where we picked up some hand-crafted cheeses, crackers, and a small package of pâté for me. Yes, I know what the liver does and yet I still *love* pâté – which for your information, literally translates from French to “paste.”
At the farmer’s stand (which is actually a large enclosed building) they had several flower bouquets for sale. After having earlier stood on the top of a mountain freezing in my underprepared-for-the-weather fleece jacket warmed only by the steam of boiling sap, these flowers, at the end of the day, were nothing short of a breath of fresh air.
During this time of year where people are passing photos on Facebook proclaiming “We’re having a lovely Winter this Spring” and where just yesterday it was predicted we’d get up to 3 inches of snow (we didn’t get anything but oh, poor Cape Cod) it’s hard to keep your eyes on the prize.
And is there anyone out there who doesn’t recognize that flowers are a prize?
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Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at [email protected]
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