blueberries

Windy out there SSE 9mph, rainy, few small whitecaps on the bay coming this way. May be a fine day to stay inside and read, watch movies, look south, or nap? Not porch, the porch is wet and getting wetter.

Rainbow 4:54 Tuesday afternoon.

If you see these things from space, they're a complete 360° circle. This one, two counting the faint rainbow, ending in the water just to our left, east of 7H porch.

Whitecaps increasing, all over the bay now. 

Slipping, slipping. Picture on television of a Cadillac from model years 1954, 55, 56 and the mind hesitated identifying the exact year, not good, not good at all, sad, very, very sad, even though where I am only imbeciles over use the word very, and that's not a political statement. 

So anyway this morning I had a quick course on those three Cadillac models to refresh myself just in case I'm shown pictures or holograms at the pearly gate and required to I-D year models, 

quite likely if heaven is as I imagine. What do you think?  

Okay, blueberries, I love blueberries. Started when my mother made blueberry pie for me when I was a child. One of these days, this is a bucket-list item, I'll return to Maine, where Andreas Wäller immigrated from Germany in the eighteenth century. Large or small ones, the best blueberry pie I've enjoyed around here is the "no sugar added" blueberry pie at Golden Corral. Blueberries I prefer cooked in something, seems to burst the flavor, as cooking does for spinach. This morning for

the first time in lo these many decades I cooked blueberry pancakes for breakfast. Wheat, Linda won't eat them, so I had three plate size blueberry pancakes, ate half, saving half for later. A Southerner, I love cane syrup, real cane syrup, and growing up next door to Bill Guy and his family, this tale has been told here before more than once, they used to have me over for dinner (noon meal in my day) and there were always biscuits, Bill's grandmother always had hot biscuits on the table, butter, and there was cane syrup, actually molasses, for the biscuits. Mr. Guy, Bill's father, showed me, "Bubba, you take a biscuit, turn it up on end, with your pointing finger punch a hole deep into the biscuit, then pour in molasses, fill up the hole with molasses, that's the way to eat a biscuit." Yep. But on my blueberry pancakes I like maple syrup. 

About ten years ago, having some light amber Grade A maple syrup that was ok but not intense, I like intense flavors, I went online and ordered my own maple syrup. I like it dark, Grade B. Trying for Grade C, I read that only industrial buyers such as bakeries can purchase Grace C maple syrup, but I searched and found essentially the same thing but called Grade B rustic dark on several maple websites, and ordered some from Vermont, Maine, Michigan, Wisconsin, I'm down to the last three or four quart bottles, but which should be enough to last my lifetime. The bottle that I poured onto blueberry pancakes this morning is Wisconsin rustic dark, just opened a few months ago and used only now and then, is maple molasses, dark, thick, with a hint of sulphur. Website info says maple syrup will last indefinitely if unopened, so I'm counting on that; and it says keep it refrigerated after opening to prevent the thick mold scum from forming on top. That I'm careful with too, but the mold formed once, in a bottle years ago: you just pour the mold off and go on enjoying the syrup.

These blueberry pancakes were delicious except that when I've not cooked them in so long, I usually burn the first side of the first one before flipping it over.

Rain rushing across the Bay from Shell Island.

Hoping you are the same.
T