Snowy Sabine pie and Penjing

The Sabine Farm is pretty socked in, today.  With effort I could get into town, but I am wondering just why I would do that.  The snow is blowing around pretty fiercely at the moment.

You can just make it out in this filmette, wherein the locals are consuming the little income I have.


After Mass, the fellow who served came up to chat and have a piece of apple pie and really strong dark-roasted Sumatra.


The little tree is doing well, fittingly perched today atop a volume of Horace’s Odes.  Winter seems not to bother this miniature Carmona microphylla in the least.



About Fr. John Zuhlsdorf

Fr. Z is the guy who runs this blog. o{]:¬)
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  1. Tina in Ashburn says:

    Nice tempo for birdwatching, Father.

    The picture of pie makes me sigh.

    I just had beets for a snack: Herbes de Provence and onions sauteed in butter, can of unsalted sliced beets (rinsed), heated together in a pan, finished with some heavy cream. A grind or two of sea salt. Really delicious!
    Freshly roasted beets would be better, but no time. Beets are energizing as they cleanse the liver, good for the doldrums.

    Now back to decorating the house for Christmas…

  2. Woody Jones says:

    Looks to me like a visit to, say, the diocese of Tucson would be in order.

  3. Tina: I do enjoy beets!

  4. Woody: And what would I do there?

  5. Mike B. says:

    Enjoy the beautiful winter weather, Father. Oh how I wish we had more snow here in middle Tennessee!


  6. Woody: I don’t know, there is little that beats (LOL!) a fresh snowfall and bird watching.

    Father: What a lovely scene. Why WOULD you go to town? Hunker down with a good book, cognac, and a cigar by the lit fireplace.

    Thanks for sharing the charming video.

  7. Jim says:

    Life’s little pleasures!

    The pie reminds me of my sainted grandma, now long gone. She was of Pennsylvania dutch (deutch) extraction, and in fact her ancestors were anabaptists from the upper Rhine. I still have her little clay blackbird, which she put in the middle of pies. The bird poked through the crust and let out the steam. She lived in Brazil during the 30’s and became addicted to strong Brazilian coffee, which she always served with the pie in little demi tasses. A lovely lady whom I dearly love.

  8. PNP, OP says:

    Beautiful! Does it ever snow in Rome…?

  9. Nice pie, nice bonsai, and nice filmette.

    The music?

  10. Ohio Annie says:

    Paul Stilwell,

    Vivaldi: The Four Seasons, this passage is supposed to sound like melting ice.

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