This week, I've plundered ripe mulberries until the juice ran down my arms. (Never really cared for that white shirt!)'I hope you don't get bellyache,' said a man whose wife was scrumping as many as I was.
And as I only know of two mulberry trees in London (and the other one is inaccessible), maybe you'll guess that I was here.
To see a painting that I last saw 30 years ago here.
It is still very beautiful -
Although it looked better in New York
Where it didn't have to compete with a very intrusive video playing right beside it.
At the Frick, I remember it hanging over a marble-topped table, exactly the same dovegrey shade as the Comtesse's dress.
And I wondered which came first, the painting or the table. As one does, pondering the shopping habits of ruthless American steel magnates.
So it was you who took all the mulberries! I was there on Thursday...
ReplyDeleteYou have to be quick, Lucille! I've never seen so many ripe ones before. Must be you and the birds get there before me most years!
ReplyDeleteI've never seen a mulberry much less tasted one! Off to google what they look like...
ReplyDeleteGorgeous portrait by the way! I must stop by to see this lovely lady for myself.
Who's is the portrait?
ReplyDeleteMulberries, you luck girl.
Toffeeapple, she is the Comtesse d'Haussonville by Ingres.
ReplyDeleteAnd Darlene, she is now on her on way back to New York as she was only on loan.
Sue, the ripe ones were lovely and then suddenly you'd get one that was a bit tart. I think they would go beautifully with your quinces.
The best mulberries I ever tasted were some luscious white ones on a Greek island years ago. I've never seen white ones since.