RecipeMuncher

“Through the dancing poppies stole A breeze most softly lulling to my soul.” John Keats When we were little girls , many many moons ago, a favourite winter pass-time was to make little dolls out of the bright red poppies that grew in our garden. The petals would fold down to make bright red dresses, & the capsule on top would look just like the head. Gave us hours of fascinating pleasure, whiling away time with silliness of this sort. <img style=”center” alt=R (...)