Old Anglers Inn

It's a gorgeous weekend and 3 days long, so we took a Saturday drive to Great Falls, MD. The plan was lunch at Old Angler's Inn, then a walk along the canal.

I had soup de jour followed by omelet de jour. That was a smoky celery soup with bacon and pear. Who knew celery soup could be so yummy? "And it would have been even without the bacon," says the vegetarian me. Then a spinach and goat cheese omelet with salad, and a glass of chenin blanc. The omelet was so-so, but by then the waterfall and wine made up for it. Finally, I had the sort-of-cheesecake, which is really a cream cheese hazelnut cannoli. Delish.

We listened to the water fall, wondered what it looks like lit up at night, brushed away the occasional stink bug (why must they follow me everywhere?) , then headed to the trail parking lot. But wham to that plan. The lot was full as were both sides of the road. Cars were parked everywhere, people were walking or biking everywhere, and we were clearly too late to get a parking spot. So, we went to the Mass Ave Crate and Barrel to daydream about red sofas, then to Johnson's to buy mums for the balcony. Then home to pull up the summer's herbs, pot up the mums, and make some Moosewood Roma Soup (not the original name which is politically incorrect and I doubt that there is much authentic to the name anyway but it is a great soup and deserves an entry of its own). It was great with a piece of Firehook zuccini bread.

A two-great-soup day is always a good day. We'll have to go back for the walk another time.

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Balcony of death, jar of no return

Ah, fall is lovely. The crisp air, the first yellow and orange leaves, my little bear peeking over the edge of a potful of mums... clear blue skies... wait - what's that - NOOOoooooooo!

Stink bug! Invaders of my peace, they just won't leave me alone. They keep on coming, landing on the screen door, each one with its little thwack, thwack, thwack. They don't hear the screams of the ones who came before, who shout, "don't come here! 'Tis the balcony of death!"

And so it is. My weapons of war are always near - the soapy jar and the squirt bottle.

But the stinky things keep on coming, ignoring the cries of their fallen loved ones, "No honey, turn around! They've got soapy water and they're not afraid to use it!"

Indeed.

Look no further

Unless you are prepared for

The balcony of death

and

The jar of no return.