Do this experiment. Start peeling an orange, put your nose in the path of the rind’s mist, peel a packet loose and place it in your mouth, but do not chew… Your salivary glands dumped buckets out into your mouth whether or not you thought you wanted an orange.
There is chemistry behind a craving. The body, as an entity, knows what it needs. And it knows what it wants. So I don’t question wanting Dim Sum in Manhattan’s Chinatown on a muggy, hot Sunday. There must be a reason why.
I know that somewhere in those little plates of starchy, salty bites, something is getting appeasing. Just as I know, afterwards, that the crossing into excess is a quick one.
And then there is the allure of opportunity by proximity.
And what’s in a name. “Eclair?” CP said not really.
In other delights, the dandelion seed heads are in full effect in the backyard.
And I was disappointed to learn that I had no idea that the Irises were up.
Slow down, Spring.