Chased inside from my epic weeding undertaking (just call me Sisyphus) by thunder, I am bursting with observations and conclusions wrought from a steamy morning trying to make order from chaos: 1) When one is covered head to toe with columbine seeds from banging into their seed pods repeatedly whilst weeding, they are completely indistinguishable from deer ticks and will exacerbate any already lurking anxiety. 2) Anxiety caused by dwelling on those things one hasn't done for three weeks (like gardening, blogging, exercising) is even more debilitating than insanely trying to pick infinitesimally small seeds off your sticky self with your gardening gloves that are encrusted with them,i.e., a complete waste of time.

I can't believe it happened again.  Yes, more trips, more adventures, more parties and general festivities, which put pay to my best intentions to blog more. Among the many happy things that led me astray were Felix's birthday, which involved a brunch party for none other than the hurricane boys (see my posting on shrimp, chicken  and andouille gumbo for details.)  It turns out that the "hurrication" and Felix's birthday were perfect bookends for freshman year; so, not only were we able to catch up and reflect on a stellar first year of college, the Griffin even showed up to wish Felix many happy returns!  Worth a little blogging lapse, I'd say.

I'm mesmerized with horror at the length of time since I last blogged.  The good news is that it's because I was doing lots of other festive things--amongst them, an enchanting Low Country holiday on a boat with lovely friends, eating myself silly up-and-down the Inland Waterway from Jekyll Island, Georgia to Charleston, South Carolina and all points in between.  Let's just say I have an even more intimate relationship with pork and pimento cheese than I would have thought possible.

I often think that a simple fruit desert is my very favorite, and this rustic apple tart is high on that list.  I'm not sure that this photograph really does it justice, however, since the whole point is that it's homemade, this certainly looks the part.  Oh, if you could just smell it, you'd know that this is a scrumptuous treat that will end any meal on a splendidly high note. Perhaps part of the reason I like it so much, is the anticipation.  I have to plan to make it, for at least a couple of days, because it is made with creme fraiche, for which I am way too cheap to pay the exorbitant asking price in the local gourmet market.  You see, not normally known to economize when it comes to ingredients, I made the mistake of discovering just how easy creme fraiche is to make,  and therefore can't bring myself to buy it anymore.  Instead, when I get the wild hare to make this tart, I buy some preferably whole milk buttermilk and some whipping cream.  When I get home, I put a couple of tablespoons of the buttermilk into a glass bowl with a couple of cups of cream in it, stir it gently and pop it into my oven set to "proof".  Like alchemy, 24 hours later I have a great big bowl of creme frache, which, let me just say, is a pretty magical and empowering thing to know you can do.