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It is hardly idle chatter, however, when our 40- plus rosemary plants which looked like they’d make it through winter unscathed succumb instead to the ice storm. Then our asparagus, emerging oh- too early on those 80- degree days, collapsed in a sodden heap when the temperatures plunged. Our lovely redbud trees, with pea- like cerise flowers all along the stems (edible, too!) froze to a dull shadow of their once- vibrant color, and now cling lifelessly to the branches. The peas have barely sprouted, and we’ve been joking that a new food pairing this year may be sugar snap peas with tomatoes- they may ripen at the same time if this weather pattern keeps up. All of which makes the first green sprigs that manage to shrug off winter’s lingering hold that much more precious. Phil and I eagerly seek out these precocious blooms and emerging shoots, instinctively craving both beauty and nourishment after winter’s doldrums. The first signs of spring that we search out are not garden crops, but wildflowers. Our property is bordered by woods on two sides, with mature shagbark hickory and Southern red oak providing ample food for the resident squirrel population. Dogwoods, sassafras and spicebush are among the understory plantings, and at their feet emerge the spring ephemerals that signal the end of winter: bloodroot, toothwort, windflower and wood anemone. We are so grateful for this “borrowed landscape”, which forms the edge of our neighbors’ Black Angus farm. Peering into the dark woods and spotting the clasped gray- green leaf and spotless white flower of the bloodroot gladdens our hearts and quickens our steps for the chores ahead. Our early spring salads are composed of many edible “weeds” that carpet our garden rows with verdant growth weeks ahead of the perennial herbs. Creasy greens, or wild mustard, lend a sharp bite, with their rosettes of shiny green toothed foliage. Sheep sorrel, with lance- shaped leaves and a lemony tang, is gathered as well. And sweetly fragrant, deep purple violet blooms are plucked as an edible, eye- catching garnish. Tossed with our earliest spring lettuces, a salad such as this needs only a veil of olive oil and our best sherry vinegar to make it sing. Somehow April’s snow flurries seem a little easier to bear. Cream of Asparagus Soup 4 tablespoons butter or margarine
(1/2 stick) In a large saucepan over medium
heat, sauté onion in butter until tender. Add asparagus; cook
one minute. For more articles and information
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