Mrs. Teabody Greets the Day

Good Morning from Meadow Grounds Mountain where the leafing trees are forming new silhouettes against a morning sky with clouds as BLUE as the beloved Tuscarora just below. It is lovely, wicked April after all, teasing everyone by flirting with summer, then sending draughts chill enough to inspire a quick trip to the closet for an extra sweater, a heavier robe. Outside, one never knows when a sunny sky will suddenly cloud over and send buckets of rain, when a moonlit, starlit sky will suddenly rumble and shoot sparks to send scaredy cats such as Mrs. Teabody and her beloved Duchess Ming for cover. In spite of her drama and her whimsicality, April is a month Mrs. Teabody adores and she looks at April's waning number of days on the calendar with regret. Only six days remain. "Be bloody, bold and resolute!" However, this is not a post about April. No, Gentle Reader, this is a post about waffles. And how Mrs. Teabody longs for one perfect waffle this slightly chilly Ap

April 10, 2013 It's spring!

Good Morning, Gentle Readers! Hopefully, your slumber was restful and you find yourself in the mood to slay a few dragons today, meaning that in a mostly metaphorical sense. In spite of little shoots of discomfort rocketing along her extremities from an ambitious first garden foray, Mrs. Teabody finds herself quite ready to get drunk on spring. Nothing heralds one of Mrs. Teabody's four favorite seasons more than  a spot or a group or a long glowing border of forsythia. Consider this marvelous shrub. She bursts into bud ahead of everything but witch hazel and pussy willow, and every inch of her being shouts, "I am alive; look at me!" without a single drop of support from all the other shrubs and bulbs and towering trees still locked in winter's embrace. If forsythia were a student, she would be a gifted student. If forsythia were in a rock band, she'd play lead guitar. If forsythia competed on "Project Runway" she would win every challenge and be decla