Picture a cobalt blue ceramic bowl* filled with fragrant lemons. In summertime, you'll use them mostly in your iced tea, but you might make some lemon tea-cookies or a batch of lemon bars if you're feeling ambitious and it's not terribly humid. In autumn, you'll want to make a lemon meringue pie or sip warm ginger tea with honey and lemon. In wintertime, you'll want to make a rich, old-fashioned lemon curd to serve over gingerbread, or, if you're feeling sick avgolemono soup is much faster and just as soothing as chicken noodle. In springtime, lemon bundt cake with lemon glaze fits the bill. I made this one to share at a family Easter gathering, but we ended up staying home with a sick baby so I was worried that it'd go to waste. I sent two generous slices over to my parents with the big kids, and, now that the cake has been devoured, I almost wish I hadn't shared at all. I'd forgotten how satisfying this cake is, served on my willow-ware plates with a cup of tea (cream, no sugar) after a rich supper of sweet peppers and Italian sausage sauce over campanelle pasta.
Finished objects coming up include: knitted, felted, embroidered cuffs, cotton raglan with placket, more bibs, and possibly a turtle stuffy. I won't promise anything for the next entry, because I didn't follow through the last time I made promises. But I'll be posting some pretties in the next few weeks. Unless the children get sick again, in which case I'll probably run away to 'darkest Peru'. Source?
*The bowl, alas, is but a memory. My heedless husband broke it one day and I don't even have a picture of it filled with lemons to soothe my wounded spirit. Now I keep my lemons in a sea-green bowl and the effect is really rather pretty. But I want another cobalt blue bowl all the same.