Except it's not anywhere near a blue ridge mountain (maybe a small hillock) and its not a pine, it's a quincelet. Just the one remains, sadly, solitary. As the song says: like the mountains I'm blue.
and let's face it, its a dead one. Yes, all my cherished quinclets have dropped off. They are no more, they could become part of a dead parrot sketch with the word parrot replaced by quince. I considered placing it in the a fruit cellar, in a chair and pretending it was still alive, but for one thing I do not own a cellar never mind a fruit one and, also, films tell us this is not a good move.
I am left with the memories of where the quinclets were.
Oh well, there's always next year.
