Does it help you feel better that this is just what we do when we're in love?
The weeping cherry was beginning to approach Melvillean dimensions in my inability to photograph it in good light, so this afternoon before my phone appointment I ran out with
spatch and my camera, determined to give it one last try before impermanence caught up with either of us. Fortunately, since neither the tree nor I were in a novel by Melville (or Miéville), it worked out.

Thar she blows!

The blossoms are reaching the end of their operational life, but they still pour down beautifully from the sky.

We're not actually sure of the species of tree flowering just within the fence of the now-shuttered playground on our street—they're the right white cloud for Bradford pears, but they don't smell weird enough. I never remember that the little semicircle of park benches at the entrance to the playground is technically named Vincent Brogna Square. All these odd little memorial corners of the city.

Spotted in a neighbor's yard: Audrey Tulip.

Spotted on the dining room table: Autolycus Valentine.
Rob meticulously documented the making of last night's lemon cake. I am especially pleased with the action shots. I am still running a low-grade fever and my airways hate me and I feel like hell, but since I ran up and down the equivalent of six flights of stairs and my oxygen saturation still tests high normal for sea level, I think I can ease off worrying about pneumonia. We are thinking of baking a coffee cake next.

Thar she blows!

The blossoms are reaching the end of their operational life, but they still pour down beautifully from the sky.

We're not actually sure of the species of tree flowering just within the fence of the now-shuttered playground on our street—they're the right white cloud for Bradford pears, but they don't smell weird enough. I never remember that the little semicircle of park benches at the entrance to the playground is technically named Vincent Brogna Square. All these odd little memorial corners of the city.

Spotted in a neighbor's yard: Audrey Tulip.

Spotted on the dining room table: Autolycus Valentine.
Rob meticulously documented the making of last night's lemon cake. I am especially pleased with the action shots. I am still running a low-grade fever and my airways hate me and I feel like hell, but since I ran up and down the equivalent of six flights of stairs and my oxygen saturation still tests high normal for sea level, I think I can ease off worrying about pneumonia. We are thinking of baking a coffee cake next.

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That lemon cake looked delicious.
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Apropros of your tulip, I ran across a pick-your-own-tulip place recently. This was a foreign concept to me, but I guess if there are pick-your-own-apple orchards, why *not* PYOT?
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You captured the blossoms excellently!
And Autolycus's captured piece of clothing looked almost liked Audrey Tulip, if he had dispatched her and brought her to you proudly...
I am still running a low-grade fever --I knew you were feeling rotten but didn't know you had been running a fever :( :( I'm very glad that your oxygen levels are still good and high.
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Autolycus has such a very noble nose.
I have a subscription to parts of the New York Times cooking section, but was still not allowed to see the recipe on my phone when you linked it for me last night. I have seen it now, however. No wonder it's good. I am wondering about whether it makes sense to try to veganize it. I would have to make sure I had a bundt pan somewhere. I used to, but I haven't seen it for a while.
P.
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