Showing posts with label pancakes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pancakes. Show all posts

17 October 2011

new york countryside

nyc037your most loyal friend is thrown above onto baggage rack in the train.

your backpack. soon he will have a big sister. but that story is for later.

nyc036jelly beans are passed around. but you turn them down since you only like jelly bellys.

nyc045then your most loyal friend gets thrown into the back of a truck.

perhaps it’s also the most abused friend as you put it through so much.

nyc046a quick stop at a farmer’s market.

nyc048and then you arrive.

nyc047the new york countryside.

a country home.

nyc050a place to sit.

nyc051a place to stand.

nyc049 a place to eat.

nyc052a place to breathe.

nyc053a place to stare.

nyc054a place to walk.

nyc055a turkey is fried.

nyc056an apple cake is made.

nyc059muffins are bought.

nyc062leftover apple cake is served.

nyc068dishes are done.

nyc069streets are crossed.

it’s like herding cattle,” you comment to your friend about how she’s in charge of five frenchies.

more like herding cats,” she corrects me.

nyc070historical hotels are visited.

nyc073a typical american diner is eaten in.

nyc074an egg cream is ordered.

nyc075your personal favorite – the shopping cart is pushed.

nyc076the door is unlocked.

nyc077the candles are lit.

nyc078 dinner is grilled and served and eaten.

nyc78wineglasses are emptied.

nyc79dishes are cleaned (again).

nyc83puzzles are put together.

nyc82slowly.

nyc84then, the last day. time to go back to the city. there is a checklist of things to do beforehand:

sweep the floor.

do laundry.

eat breakfast.

shower.

pick tomatoes.

nyc85everybody volunteers for a but nobody wants to go pick tomatoes.

you don’t want to either.

thanks to record high amounts of rain the mosquitos are out in numbers higher than ever.

it is impossible to go outside without at least five different mosquitos on you at the same time.

you swat away one, but three more are on your neck. you swat your neck, and five more are on your wrist. you swat your wrist, and four more are on your ankle. there is no mercy.

nyc86but somebody has to do it. you sacrifice yourself. and you pick tomatoes in record speed because each unnecessary second spent outside meant more red irritated skin.

nyc88on your way in, your quickly admire the purples.

nyc89the pinks.

nyc90and the whites.

nyc91back inside, you’re safe. but not without battle scars. and rewarded with breakfast. jams, honey, pancakes, pear buttermilk cake, and bacon.

a perfect way to finish off your stay in upstate new york.