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Betsy Block

Stories without recipes



By this time of year, I'm usually wondering: Why do I live in New England again? A little tantrum ensues at some point during the month, and, as we do every year, BD and I once again discuss the possibility of going on a winter vacation - next year. This February has been even more Februaryish than usual because Roxy has been acting as our self-appointed, pre-dawn rooster, waking us up with her barking between 4 and 5 a.m. every day.

In other words, I don't have much interest in writing today, unless it's about aches and fatigue, and who wants to read about that? But then when I saw this photo from last summer's farmers market, I thought, who needs words anyway? This says it all.

We'll get there again. Maybe not right away, but we'll get there.