That reminds me, it’s time to clean out the fridge.
I’m not sure what’s for dinner tonight. Nothing served in a crockpot should be that bursting with life, unless it’s been sitting out for a few days. Even then, what the hell kind of cooking experiment coughs up mountain laurel? The mushrooms I can handle, they’re opportunistic. I’m sure that if I left a big bowlful of…something…out, it’d develop mushrooms after a while. But little tiny trees are beyond the pale. You have to have committed some major kitchen sins to end up with a heaping bowl of mountain laurel.
Not sure what the yellow pods are. They look armed and dangerous, a bit like something out of a low-budget sci-fi movie. I’m waiting for one of them to tense up, cough, and blow a seed across the aisle into the coffee mug section.
Traditionally, as a part of the Thanksgiving feast, the pawnbrokers would decorate a tree with fruits for the orphans. Of course, it was a very small tree. With very small fruits. But the deeply destitute should be thankful for the little things.
A lovely bouquet of dried corn cobs, a misplaced feather, and Brazilian pygmy oranges for the scamp on the crutches. There you go. Nail it all down to a bowl of Styrofoam and pretend the little nipper could get some nourishment out of it.
I’m guessing this is intended as a holiday bookend or plaque, but once the festive holiday rats have chewed through the outer layer of leaves and twigs to get to the tasty, tasty hot glue layer, it’s less visually appealing. If it was visually appealing before, we rather doubt it.
Savers on South Lamar, Austin