Berlin Reified

En Passant (Brunnenstraße)

Magnolias in the Märkisches Viertel

 

I'm brimful of news, have all manner of adventures to report on, but time slips away, so for now, this skyful of magnolia blooms, confirming spring has come.

Chestnut fingers

Soft leaves unfurling against a brick wall are the essence of spring in Berlin.

Balcony report

So disorganized with my planting this year, but at least my chives have returned. What have you got growing on your balcony?

Esst Obst!

I've long loved these simple paper bags so when I saw Do you read me?!'s FoodMarketo contribution I had to smile.

Slowly, slowly

This dawdling, halting spring!

Notes from Mull

Lately this blog has been more about elsewhere than Berlin, but never mind, after this post I will deepen into life back home, monitoring the cherry blossoms at Rosa Luxemburg Platz and checking how the birches are sprouting green in the Buddhist gardens.

Katie, I wish I could have made it to Iona, but this trip to Mull was another lesson in the vagaries of traveling with a toddler. Never mind, if the image below was your view from bed, wouldn't you be tempted to stay in with tea and ginger biscuits? (If you're visiting Tobermory with friends, I can only recommend Janet Campbell's converted fisherman's house Seabrae, full of loving touches and generous faded floral armchairs.)

Scotland was precisely what I'd like it to be: blue and green and white, full of beloved friends, and treats. Tobermory's Island Bakery was ideal for assembling picnics, and I'm still meditating on the one perfect oyster that began a perfect dinner at Cafe Fish. Back home, what a delight to know there's a waxed round of Isle of Mull cheese to be sliced over oatcakes. Is there anything nicer than the honor system? At the Sgriob-ruadh Dairy farm shop, cheeses were attractively displayed in a glass case; we left our money in a wooden hen on the countertop, admired the antique presses and white Wellingtons, then left. If you're back in the summer, tell me how the garden cafe is.

PS: A toddler prone to motion-sickness meant I couldn't join an outing to the Ardalanish Weavers, but I was intensely envious when David brought back stories of Swedish interns demonstrating the vintage looms. Maybe you'll have better luck? Do the farm trail if you can!