Because a couple of people were hunting for it this morning, here’s my Presidents Day Dessert post. (I’m now wishing I’d made it yesterday. I could really go for some cherry cobbler for breakfast today.)
A peek at the stat counter showed a hit for this post—someone was looking for Miss Rumphius—and I was interested to see that that post about the arrival of San Diego County’s beautiful grape-soda lupines is dated March 24. Here it is only Feb. 21 and we’re already seeing the lupines around town. Which reminds me: Rilla doesn’t know Miss Rumphius yet. (Shocking!) Must remedy that.
Beside the usual flurry of searches for the order of the Little House books and how to teach a toddler to blow her nose, there have been, in the past 24 hours, twelve queries having to do with Lark Rise to Candleford—most of them wondering, as I did, what happened to Nan. This tally is about typical. After my own name, my books, and Little House-related searches, the most common search topics in my stats are Lark Rise (and lately, Downton Abbey) and, interestingly, Vivian Vande Velde’s Stolen, an extremely gripping and mysterious middle-grade novel that, as far as I can tell, is showing up in the homework of a horde of sixth-graders across the nation. They’re all looking for plot summary of and I hope that after the frantic homework googling is done they’ll actually pick up the book and read it, because it’s well worth their time. Not homeworky at all, if you know what I mean, O Ye 6th-graders of America.
Scott just read the draft of this post and said, “But what about the one you read me this morning? You have to include that.” And so, dear person who searching for the answer to the timeless question, “Can I put the current weather as my Facebook status,” I’m sorry you didn’t find the answer on this blog. Okay, I’m not that sorry. (But I can tell you from experience, if you live in a climate that allows unexpected tomatoes to appear in the neglected back corner of your garden in January, your snowbound East Coast friends will not appreciate your crowing about it. I’m just saying.)