Seasonal Aspargaus Bread Pudding |
This morning I lifted my weary head from my sleep-induced coma and crept from under the comfort of my down duvet. Peering through the fog I seemed disoriented and every fibre of my being thought I had awakened in the wrong city, in the wrong province, or even on the wrong continent. I wondered if somehow I had ended up on the coast where the skies pour their hearts out for days on end, or found myself in a tropical rainforest? I shook my head to clear my thoughts and heard morning doves and swallows and not the excited chatter of monkeys or the beating of drums. I don't recall having too many glasses of wine at dinner last night. Am I not in the "sunny" Okanagan Valley where the relentless summer sun beats down on the sunbaked rolling hills? Yes it has rained for an entire week and we the smug raincoat-less, umbrella-less society have been speaking our minds on the subject.
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