I have been dreaming of making a garlicscape soup. The recipe calls for spinach and all my spinach has bolted and I did not get into town today. So dinner will be poetry, a scape on the plate, an onion blossom in a vase perched on the fireplace, 1970's hits in the background, the kiln in preheat, and a thunderstorm hovering at the horizon.
"I have been eating poetry..."
Mark Strand
Your solstice offerings are such a gift. Thanks! You know how much I love the quirkyness of the wild garlic.