Although the sun never emerged, the day brightened as it went along. In between watching birds gather black oil sunflower seeds, I squeezed in play with the dogs - they were in a good mood -- and poked at my work, while spending much of the afternoon baking for Thanksgiving. Here are the fruits of my labor, with a few cookies shy of the recipe. Nothing brightens a day like a homemade cookie(s) still warm from the oven. Such are the benefits of working from home, for myself.
My list of favorite pies is long -- apple, pumpkin, strawberry rhubarb, black raspberry, sour cherry... it goes on. But not a blackbird pie. Do kids still learn this old English nursery rhyme....
Sing a song of sixpence,
A pocket full of rye.
Four and twenty blackbirds,
Baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened,
The birds began to sing;
..........
A pocket full of rye.
Four and twenty blackbirds,
Baked in a pie.
When the pie was opened,
The birds began to sing;
..........
They must have known something in the English countryside back in the 1700s, that blackbirds were a hardy group and liked to hang out together. Twenty-four in one pie - that is a tight fit! No wonder they sang once freed from the pie.
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