May flowers make me smile

The old adage says

April showers bring May flowers

We haven’t had much in the way of rain this April, so perhaps that is why the flowers are a bit slower to come. My garden is green, but the flowers so far are mostly on the fruit trees in bloom. I don’t mind so much; spring does show off nicely in May with plenty of growth and colour. But my dream for May has always been to dance around a May pole.

What girl doesn’t like the idea of having flowers in her hair? And despite being rather uncoordinated, I have long fantasized about dancing with a ribbon and weaving it around the pole as I skipped with others in the spring breeze.

May Day has become a civic holiday in many places, dedicated to workers. Going back to ancient Roman times and then continued by the Druids, it is a celebration of the end of winter, taking us into spring – a new season of growth. Often these traditions collide and are combined in celebrations.

I learned of May Day during my university days when I was in France. It is considered “Labour Day” there, but a common practice on the holiday is to give loved ones the gift of flowers – lilies of the valley, to be exact, as they are known to bloom at this time.

If you have never smelled this tiny blossom, search it out. If you have a shady spot in your garden and you find a plant, do yourself a favour and take it home. It will transport you to the world of fairies and magic.

May Day celebrations are said to come from the ancient Roman festival that paid homage to the goddess Flora. Of course, the festivities were all about decorating with flowers and greenery, in reverence to all the new life, new beginnings.

It is said that in the 15th century the women would wash their faces on May Day with the morning dew, as it would give them a special glow. Henry VIII’s first wife, Catherine of Aragon, apparently took her ladies in waiting to the fields to bathe in the dew. (I wonder if this is how World Naked Gardening Day came to be at the same time? )

In the Restoration period, Charles II of England abolished many traditions and customs that embraced a spirit of frivolity. May Day was converted to a civic celebration of farmers and workers.

There are Druids who still celebrate Beltane, connected to the full moon in April, and they keep alive the pagan customs of blessing gardens and thanking Mother Nature for her hard work. On May Day, the Maypole dance is one element that remains in some places as a demonstration of the joy that comes to people with the start of a new outdoor season.

I spent this morning on a walk of gratitude through the neighbouring orchards, and despite the rain and wind today I did breathe deep to appreciate the lilac blossoms. I jumped for joy when I discovered the first lilies of the valley blossoms just coming out from their leaf skirts. There is much to look forward to.

Tomorrow I will bake a rhubarb galette in honour of the new season. It will represent the Pink Moon that set us on our way this year for our growing season. Someday I will find a Maypole to dance around, but in the meantime I will continue to count my blessings.

Spring has sprung!

Here we are, at the beginning of a new cycle. I don’t know about you, but I’m ever so happy to have made it to the other side of the past year. As the saying goes, hindsight is 2020, and does that ever apply to life these days.

Over the past year, I did learn to bake a mean sourdough loaf, and I conquered my fear of other lengthy baking preparations – I can now make croissants and puff pastry. I also had a wicked garden full of herbs and edible blossoms last summer, giving me inspiration to create new herb blends, tisanes, and even a few herb salts.

All these things are new skills I add to my quiver. I can duplicate them in the new world, making me an even more grateful gourmand. Food has always been a way for me to express my gratitude, and having new ways to do that has been wonderful, even if it has been remotely that I have shared.

We are moving into our new world at a tortoise’s pace, not the hare one might hope for in spring metaphors. Nevertheless, hope does spring eternal and so I am using enthusiasm as my fuel until I can employ real action. Mother Nature’s efforts to showcase the new season help keep my energy up. Does your heart lift when you hear the first robins of spring, or see the first green shoots?

Here in the Okanagan we are blessed with a mild Canadian climate. The crocus blossoms are out, and the daffodils and tulips are not far behind. My mint is pushing up through the garden dirt, and the rhubarb has shown its face, too. But my favourite harbinger of spring is something that exhibits all the signature qualities of the season of new things… cute and fuzzy pussywillows!

One of the other qualities of spring is that it tends to go over board. The possible storms and floods of the season are not much fun, but an overload of love can be just what one might need – especially after the year we just had. Family and friends provide that support we all need, and I know many have dug deep to find new ways to connect.

For us at Rabbit Hollow, the new abundance of love we felt was a puppy. I feel ever-so-fortunate to have a creature to hug and snuggle and love, who loves us unconditionally. She is like our very own personal Easter Bunny, bringing energy and love and happiness.

our 2021 family portrait

What new habits have you adopted in our new world? Are you proud of any new skills? We have made it here, and we can keep going. Even though spring may be unpredictable with its weather and its timing, it never fails to offer us a fresh start. Let’s skip through that new grass, inhale those blossoms, and hum along with the birds!

“Despite the forecast, live like it’s spring.”

– Lilly Pulitzer

Lions and lambs and lettuce

March is a mixed up month. I never know if spring is really here or if winter is just gearing up for her grand finale. The days get longer but if it’s grey they can still seem gloomily short, in my opinion. As a result, one day I feel like eating salad for dinner – celebrating the sprouting tulips and sunshine – then the next day stew is on the menu, to ward off the damp and cold of a frosty day.

It is said that March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. In Canada those little lambs aren’t the ones eating ivy, though, for the snow could still be on the ground.

A silly aside here – does anyone else remember the old song, “Mairzy Doats”? The story goes that one of the songwriters was inspired when his 4 year old daughter came home  singing her version of a nursery rhyme, simple cute jibberish to his ear. He wrote:

Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey

A kiddley divey too, wouldn’t you?

The lyrics of the song’s bridge provided a clue to undoing the code:

If the words sound queer and funny to your ear, a little bit jumbled and jivey,

Sing “Mares eat oats and does eat oats and little lambs eat ivy.”

Then we can translate the final line as

a kid’ll eat ivy, too; wouldn’t you?

But that’s a matter more for the month of April, don’t you think?

To avoid feeling overwhelmed by the month’s maelstrom of emotions, I decided to focus on the gentler lamb image and find something “springy”. More light, more new things – that’s what was needed. I found it in my Tower Garden.

Now I plant lettuces and herbs inside and get to watch them grow in the wonderfully cheery tower brightened by LED wands. It’s a delicious sort of magic being able to eat homegrown lettuce in the month of March, without having to brave the whistling winds and half-frozen dirt that comprises my garden plot at the moment.

It’s still a bit early to plant my seeds for the outdoor veggie garden. Experience has taught me that I’ll end up with leggy shoots that can’t stay up in the continuing winds of later spring. Their stocks will mold or break in the damp outside world and I’ll have to start over. For now, I am just plotting out my plan, choosing which seeds will be featured and how everyone will fit in the space.

In the meantime, at least I can feel nourished by what is to come; I don’t have to subsist solely on the stock of the winter larder, or my winter spirit. Having a bit more colour in my diet helps me notice the colour in the world. It cheers me and brings back my sense of humour.

On that note, I’ll close with the other quote I found about March. It sums up my sentiment quite nicely.

March is the month God created to show people who don’t drink what it feels like to have a hangover.  – Garrison Keillor

Too Hot!

I don’t think I could live in a tropical climate long term. I like food too much. 

For the last week or so, it’s been a steady 30 degrees during the day and then around 20 at night. We don’t have air conditioning, so the heat never really abates. 

In these temperatures, neither one of us feels much like cooking. Who wants to heat up the house any further by turning on the stove or the oven? I don’t even feel much like eating or drinking something hot.  

Salad is great, and there are a million ways to make it. It’s a bit early for much in the way of local ingredients but we have used many of the garden herbs. 

Farmers market radishes were the star in this everyday blend of greens. They kicked things up a notch, helped along by the first of the garden arugula and hubbie’s classic French vinaigrette.

We were gifted a beautiful piece of tuna frozen at sea, and it topped our salad perfectly. Chopped chives, parsley and thyme from the garden didn’t hurt either.

A cool and wet spring has meant plenty of dandelions. These greens were “foraged” from my raised beds in our back yard.

Ordinarily we have an early spring by Canadian standards, and so I’m spoiled with early edible blossoms and veggies at the farmers market. 

This year it was cool and wet, so the dandelions and arugula were the first bonuses. The price I paid for scrounging them was a stunning array of mosquito bites. 

I don’t plan on starting a raw diet, so I was happy when I heard the forecast for cooler temps over the next week. Then I can adjust to this scenario and come up with some other meals that work in the heat (besides salads and omelettes). 

Perhaps I’m just getting slow to adjust in my advancing years? I haven’t even managed to unpack my summer outfits yet! Even if one were to say they didn’t believe in climate change (which seems hard unless you never look out a window) one would have to believe in some sort of adjusting, don’t you think? 

What do you cook in the heat? I’d love to hear some new ideas. I’m certainly inspired to check my tropical cookbooks. Watch for new recipes 🙂 

Maybe I’m trying too hard

In the last week I lost my mojo. I looked daily for inspiration on writing and I came up empty every time. I haven’t been cooking anything except eggs and warming leftovers. I need to shake this off. 

Our cool spring weather broke on the long weekend and we were inundated with heat. The first blossom to make a stand was a poppy. 

Seeing it stand there, so striking and strong, I was encouraged. 

As I approached to take a close up though, I noticed something…

The flower had closed its petals. It appeared to be resting after a long day. 

I took it as a sign. I’m going to attempt not beating myself up for past behaviour and move forward. Tomorrow is another day. And another post.