Quarta's 11th birthday was yesterday. Bunny ears are always appropriate on such an occasion.
Aunt Kristine and Secundus looked dubious.
The cake was strawberry cake with blueberry frosting.
The poor plum tree is trying to kill itself this year. Several branches have snapped under the weight of all the plums. "Self-pruning," we call it. But it isn't really.
I picked several gallons this morning just by standing where the thicket of broken branches is densest. Ilse and Amy have taken a bunch; I'm working on filling the dehydrator. If you are local and want some, let me know and we'll give you as many as you want.
I'm looking up recipes for pflaumenkuchen, pflaumenmus, and even considering attempting to make plum wine.
Nothing says summer like an overabundance of produce, and painting the fence. Daniel is taking that job. He's pushing for the winemaking job too.
I was going to do quilting and knitting updates but there hasn't been much of that going on.