A Stormy Weekend
We spent a good chunk of time in this room over the weekend. My parents came over on the ferry Friday night. Saturday was blustery and wet, very wet. We ventured out in the car for a little bit, but most of the day was spent at home, enjoying being together.
In my previous post I included a similar photo, but with my slippers showing, and the fire off. Here the fire is barely on, and my slippers no where to be seen. A more formal view, as it were.
Those quinces I mentioned earlier were poached in white wine with orange peel, then sliced and made into an Upside Down Honey Spice Cake. It's a Fine Cooking recipe, found if you click the link. It was okay. The quince taste wasn't very pronounced and I'm a little ambivalent about the whole thing. It was a fine experiment. If I get my hands on more quinces, I think I'll make Membrillo, a quince paste eaten with cheese in much of Latin America.
The cake was dessert for a family dinner on Saturday evening, four generations gathered for food and visiting.
It's been a week of storms. On Friday afternoon, before the next system blew in, I went out to clip some flowers. The dahlias drooped alarmingly, their thin stems unable to hold the weight of the blooms made heavy by rain. Still the roses bloom, somewhat battered, but beautiful and fragrant. I also cut hydrangea stems, choosing the most richly coloured mopheads for a bouquet on the mantel. I placed all of the rather wet flowers in the sink before beginning to arrange them and thought they made a pretty bundle there.
I arranged the roses in a teapot that cracked years ago and no longer holds water. A small jar inside holds the water.
This afternoon we took my parents back to the ferry. They leave their car on the mainland and walk on as foot passengers, and we're happy to pick them up and deliver them back to the terminal. Before returning home, Tim and I walked along the waterfront. The rains held off until we were safely indoors at home once again.
Linking with Mosaic Monday, hosted by Maggie of Normandy Life.