Corner store tulips

Why are they on corners, so often? The all-day, sometimes all-night corner stores. The nearest one, Mr. Kiwi, is open 24/7. Need compostable-bin-bags-organic-milk-or-a-bunch-of-scallions at 1am? How about a fresh cocao fruit (why is the powder cocoa and the fruit cacao)? Or tulips.

Mostly, I buy winter tulips several blocks away. About a half-mile walk. At another corner store, called Food Train. Their tulips usually arrive on Wednesdays or Thursdays and I like them in tight bud, so that they last as long as possible Their latest deal is three bunches for $30, which is more than I want to spend. It's too much. But it's still $10 a bunch if you buy three, which is low. For here. Last year it was two bunches for $20. Now, if you buy just one bunch it's $14.99. Around the corner, it's just $12.99 a bunch but no deal on multiples. Way down 7th Avenue it's also $12.99 and very fresh tulips but cash only. 

The minutiae. 

My mother used to find it amusing that I knew what everything cost. She didn't know what anything cost. 

She would have liked the tulips.

Flars

 They help. In that moment when our glance falls upon them.

We are lucky to have them.

Those toes

If you open a sweater up, assuming that it is empty of a human and lying flat on a  nice, soft surface like a bed, Pirelli will dive right in, disappearing deep into it and curling himself quickly into a ball. This is not the time to put your hand in to stroke him. Not unless you're wearing armor. Or armour.

When he relaxes, about 10 minutes later, he will stretch his feet luxuriously, and allow them to show. You may stroke him now, and he will make a small, extended grunt of contentment, before turning himself upside-down and stretching his legs again and spreading his toes

Growth

Above: A new branch on the yuzu on December 14th.

 The same shoot on December 1st.

A mystery, and a leaping towards the light.

Bergamot blossom

The small bergamot tree (Citrus bergamia) is blossoming, and has been for a few weeks. Just one flower pumps out enough perfume to fill the room. It's not overwhelming, just there. (In the background are some ripe calamansi fruit.)

You can see the leaves are dusty. Time for a wipe-down. 

This tree barely grew last summer on the terrace: user-error, I think. A bit too much water. I have been exceptionally careful with it in the last six months and it seems to be recovering. Blossoms in themselves are not a sign of robust health; even sick trees can bloom. An evolutionary response? "She's killing us, make seed!"

There are already several tiny green fruit set among the drying petals of the older flowers. I will make the tricky decision whether to remove some (so that the tree's energy goes into foliage production). 

There are signs of green life, though - four new, tender shoots growing from the trunk. Two were below the graft line (and would reflect whatever the root stock is), though, so I snapped them off, with gritted teeth. The graft line, or union, is where the rootstock and the scion re grafted together, and apparently root stuck suckers can be very vigorous.

Outdoors, everything is frozen. So the greenhouse in the bedroom is very welcome.

Going out

This New Year's Eve we treated ourselves to Champagne and a supper of smoked salmon on toast, with asparagus and a fennel slaw, followed by squashed, roasted potatoes topped with crème frâiche and salmon roe. The little jars of roe were $13. The next roe up, American sturgeon, was $80. After that Osetra sparkled at $180.

Salmon it was. And very delicious.

First, you boil little potatoes until cooked through. Then you squash each onto a lined baking sheet using something round and heavy. A wine bottle with a flat bottom is excellent. Roast them for about 45 minutes at 350°F. They don't require salmon roe, but it's very good.
 

Dessert was a beautiful galette des rois from a local bakery (Brooklyn French). My slice had the hidden "bean" but the bean was a tiny croissant, so I got to wear the provided crown. For a bit. I let the Frenchman wear it because he looked a little crestfallen. Childhood memories.

And now, in light snow, and sub-freezing temperatures, we walk to see the fireworks at Grand Army Plaza. Squirrels, raccoons, possums, birds, cats, and dogs, cover your ears. Poor things. When will we ever learn?

See you on the other side.

Snowfall

We've been lucky. Two snows in two weeks, with temperatures low enough for them to stick.

The lake in Prospect Park has been semi-frozen, and we wonder when we will see raccoons walking on the ice again (the last time was in February this year, a roaming pack of 12, possibly a once-in-ten-year raccoon reunion?). 

When the sun shines, it glitters.

Hawthorns hanging low. 

It's interesting that birds don't eat the fruit now. Given a choice, they mob the remaining crabapples, instead.

Unrelated, but not really: If you like almanacs, I contributed a monthly foraging column to The Other Almanac 2026. And there is a lot more in it, too. 

Find it in the usual places and from the publisher.