This is Claude Snowman.
And like every Snowman, Claude has a story.
His life was short, but it was full.
It all began in a place where snow-- the stuff that made Claude who he was-- comes like a thief in the night. Only the truly watchful residents of the place could have hoped to design a specimen with the caliber of character Claude possessed.
And the residents of this place were truly watchful. They watched the weather and the skies all day until snow started to fall. Then, while the rest of the neighborhood was sleeping, they made snow angels to ensure it was just the right snow. And it was.
Then, they fueled themselves on adorned pancakes and rest until the morning light seeped in,
And they consulted the secret blueprints that had been waiting for just the right snow to fall.
And it was then that Claude was conceived in a ball of leafy, dirty snow, which the truly watchful residents took great care to purify before Claude Snowman was introduced to the town of Backyard Bliss.
Each piece of Claude was rolled with care,
Given buttons of solid Holly Berry,
Molded down to his very feet,
And patted to a state of perfection that few others in his species have ever known, even if their lives were longer.
And the truly watchful dogs of the neighborhood wondered silently what their humans were up to. They wondered if perhaps their humans needed to fetch a ball-- the good, yellow bouncy kind-- in order to lure them back into reality.
The truly watchful residents stepped back and said hullo
To the exquisitely amiable
At least 6 feet tall and more stunningly charming than his blueprint suggested he would be.
Even the dog understood.
So, that's the story of Claude Snowman.
I will not share the pictures of Claude's demise later in the afternoon. I want the world to remember him in his prime.
Our Valentine's Day
consisted of none other than Julia Child's
French Onion Soup,
which I've been wanting to try because of the Farmhouse Kitchen's raving review.
And it did not disappoint.
the world's Gold Medalist in the Chocolate Truffle Cake event.
I will post this recipe sometime this week. It's one of the few desserts that I have made more than a few times. Husband loves it, hence the Valentine's Day meal.
It's so good that I have to hurry and brush my teeth after dinner so I can say NO to a slab of it right before bed. This isn't the stuff you want hanging out, making itself at home in your gut just before snuggling down for the night, I assure you. It would move in and set up camp in the thighs, chin, and upper arms and only leave by severe force. It's the kind of stuff you want to eat much earlier in the day-- like for breakfast-- so you can burn off at least a smidgen.