Various and sundry

Some odds and ends:

Yesterday I made a strawberry/kiwi torte for my friend's birthday. I wish I'd done a better job of tidying up the plate before snapping the picture. Martha would be mortified at the mess.

This torte is one of my favorite recipes. It's quick and easy to make, and unbeknownst to the casual observer, the layers are topped with beaten egg whites and chopped walnuts before they're baked. Yum-o. Once the layers are cooled, the whipped topping and fresh fruit slices are added. 

 

I mentioned to Ken yesterday afternoon that I was getting worried about the Baltimore orioles. According to my bird-watching records, they arrive here in this part of Maine anywhere between May 3 and May 12. Yesterday was the 9th, and there was still no sign of them. Granted, there were still a few days left before the "deadline," but I like to do my worrying in advance when possible.

Not more than an hour later, I looked out the kitchen window to find this male oriole drinking from the hummingbird feeder. He spent the rest of the afternoon in the blossoming crabapple tree, or in the bridal wreath, or at the hummingbird feeder, or at the suet cake. I'm hoping he brought the Mrs. with him and they'll build a nest and stay awhile.

Friday was an historic day at our house: Ken's Model-T speedster, for which he began collecting parts when he was a teenager, was brought out into the daylight. Not only that, but Ken started its engine and took a little spin, albeit illegally, down to the church and back, a distance of maybe 1/8 mile. 

Ken has talked about his Model-T as if it actually existed ever since I've known him. It was a collection of parts in various boxes in our first rental home, in our first real home, and in this home, until this past winter, when he began putting all the parts together into what looks to be a vehicle. It still lacks sides, seats, and other amenities, but Ken assures me these things will come with time. Right now he's working on getting the engine to run smoothly. The neat thing about this speedster is that there's a story to go with each part: where Ken got it, how much he paid for it, etc. And I've heard all of these stories so many times I could probably tell them myself.

Meet Mid-day Moon and Moose. They're the baby pigmy goats at our neighbors' house. They moved into the neighborhood about a week ago. Only a few weeks old, they love to have people nearby. When I walked over to their pen to take some pictures, they cavorted for me, even hopping onto the rock as if to say, "Look! See what I can do!" The minute I started walking away, they cried like babies. I felt bad, but I really couldn't spend the entire day at their fence, praising them for their feats.