Could there be anything better than a few good friends getting together on a semi-regular basis for food and conversation at each other’s houses?

Yesterday, on a beautiful, cold, fall day, we gathered at Valerie’s for tiny quiches and hard cider in the living room to start .  Then on to the dining room for crab and avocado salad, curried pumpkin soup, angel biscuits, and tarte tatin.  There was whipped cream to go on this last, but I put mine on my coffee.

You would think that nothing could top this, but our conversation did.  We talked about the recent election; a spacecraft landing on a comet 3 million miles away; a new art studio; music; math; diagramming sentences; bird-watching, including ducks and lame ducks; Mollie Katzen; civics; baby bumps; weddings.  I can’t even remember it all.

Too soon, (Well, it was about four hours later.) Georgienne, the only un-retired member of our group, had to leave for a rehearsal, and I had to attend a committee meeting at St. P’s around the corner. And poor Henny had been complaining for a while that her walk in the park across the street was long past due, so we adjourned.

You can see how high-strung Henny is:

Bruce popped in to tell us about the spacecraft/comet connection and we recruited him for a bit of documentation.