The photo above is of the kitchen porch on the old Whitney farmstead in Jonesboro, Maine, where my grandmother grew up, the eldest of twelve siblings. It’s the heart of Maine blueberry country. Some of those folks have been sitting there since Grammy’s time, don’t you think?
I apologize to all subscribers, paid and non, and especially to those of you who’ve joined me on the kitchen porch most recently. I’m suffering from what Grammy Harmon would have called summer complaint, and not able to do much more than sip warm broth and cold tea. Hopefully (yes, I know that’s a grammatically incorrect usage), this will pass in another few days and I’ll be back to my usual conversational chatter. And there’s a lot to talk about right now!
In the meantime, send me your thoughts please—what are you eating, cooking, growing, awed by, in this most luxurious season? I’m looking forward to wild Maine blueberries, finest kind, starting to appear in our farmers markets, or so I am told.
Be well, dear friends! A presto!
No posts
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.