Holy Cow.

I've had an iris about ready to bloom for a week.  Last fall, I hurriedly ordered and then planted a bunch of bulbs and rhizomes last and then promptly forgot what any of them were.  And I'm going out of town tomorrow and thought I would miss this guy blooming before I went.

But, at last.  And it was worth the wait.

The inside is just as pretty.  It looks like a stormy sunrise... *sigh.

At Last

Winter has been tough in most of the country this year. (Can I get an Amen?)  Frigid. Snow covered. And so ridiculously long.  I mind winter less as I get older, but I have hated this year's.  It snowed just a few days ago.  After a few sixty and seventy degree days--flowers blooming in the yard, me out on the town not sausaged into a million layers for the the first time in going on seven months--enough big fat wet snow fell that it stuck on the ground for a whole day.  In April.

Unconscionable.

I have asked strangers on elevators (in a town where you don't talk to strangers very often), "Why does the outside hate us?"  I was on a walk in the cold with the dog two days ago and a bundled up old guy on a bike yelled as he rode past us, "Do you know when the hell it plans to warm up?"

I'm just saying, people are angry and tired and fed up.

But I think things are finally about to change and I have collected the proof from my very own yard (and the neighbor's):

The very start of lilac blooms.  I love the tight concord grapeyness of their beginnings.

Asiatic lilies creeping out.  Right from the start they're so themselves--pointy and brash.

Is there anything more promising up north than the first prehistoric looking unfolding of Rhubarb leaves?

A hosta spear troop.

Bird's nest on our rolled up awning. (And, um, I think we need to scrub all of that down when the birdie is done.  Dirty, dirty.)

Crocuses!

Neighbor's tree. (totally jealous.)

Spirea leaf starts.

Getting Ready for Spring

Hung out with my honey today--gardening and cleaning up around the outside of the house.  We raked leaves and hacked our apple trees and wisteria back to their very nubs.  We weeded and got rid of unwanted plants.  We divided hostas and sage and replanted to fill in in empty spots.

It was cold outside, but we treated the day like spring.  So, to celebrate, I'm making a strawberry/rhubarb crisp for dessert. . . after a springy dinner of quiche and salad.  Even the outdoors knows it's a party tonight.

Spring is Here

So, it's been really warm in Chicago. . . a few days have actually been hot and humid. Over 80 degrees. The kind of weird extended hot spell in March that makes you want to look askance at Rick Santorum when he pshaws global warming as a bad scientific myth.

The last frost date for Chicago is in May, and with my garden coming to life so early, I'm worried things are getting set up to be damaged--especially the newly transplanted irises and lilies. I also am having to fight the pretty daily urge to get out there are get to work. There's no way that the end of cold weather has come to Chicago by St. Patrick's Day.

So, there's that worry, but it's also pretty exciting to see green things popping up all over and knowing that winter will soon be a thing of the past. Plus, Chicago is a magical place in the spring and summer--and last week, as if someone turned a switch on, the streets were filled downtown with slowly strolling folks enjoying the sun and the warmth. There's a party atmosphere in town when its warm, and I can't complain that it's come so soon.

Transplanted Asiatic lilies.

Our neighbors gorgeous tree--blooming a month early.

Getting Better Every Day

The northeast corner of our property. A tiny apple tree and lots of hostas.


Today I added loads of flowers to the garden . They're hard to see right now, but they're going to grow big and fat and then this garden will be full of green and purple and red and blue and yellow and white. And I will show you another picture then. . .

Three Spirea Bouquets

Little kiddies have been stealing the low hanging blooms on our spirea bushes, and it occurred to me that I should do the same. Don't know why it took four years to consider bringing in spirea blooms for bouquets in the house. . .

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Happy Spring!

Manifest Emissaries

Last year, in lead up to Manifest to the hooligans running around building anticipation were Magritte inspired, colorfully-vested, trench-coated, bowler-hatted pranksters.

This year, they were more sober, steam-punkish, hard-working folks. Two to three khaki enrobed workers dragging around a wheeled desk in which cardboard eggs and typewriter were nestled in live grass. On a pedestal above--a red emergency phone and a Chinese lantern. And always, following in their wake, a darkly dressed gentleman taking notes and speaking into a small recording device, investigating their work. . .

Why is he so disapproving?

I love it. . .

Beautiful Day + Log

This spring has been a cold and rainy one in Chicago. But last weekend we had a sunny day and again today, a sunny day. And it was in the low 70's. So, I took my bad back outside into the sun and did a little yard work (emphasis on the "little"). One thing I did do? Cut a few non-magnolia stumps out of our pretty magnolia bush.



And then L.P. went to town on the tiny stumpy logs.





L.P. had the best day of any dog in town today. No contest. Don't even try, other dogs, because L.P. loved that log. . .

It Doesn't Look Like Much Yet. . .

But you just wait, the front of our house is going to look better in a month or two. And in 2-4 years, it's going to be the envy of the block!

But for now, it looks like this ("Hi!" to Dan waving from the back yard):


I have this terrible habit of imagining what a garden spot could look like in ten years, and then planting that garden immediately. That's not really how gardens work. Nevertheless, I imagined the northeast corner of our our lot being a shady, sun-dappled little glen--with a dwarf, gnarled, apple-tree as the center piece, with hostas and lily-of-the-valley growing blue and green and gold in its shade.

But the apple tree is a stick and won't be much more than that for another year or two. Regardless, with the image of a wooded glen in mind, last year, I immediately planted hostas and lily of the valley right up against the sidewalk--which is a pretty sunny place. Dumb.

So, I moved some things around today. I moved hostas back into the shade of the house--some lilies, too. And a huge rhubarb plant came with the house when we bought it. It was a giant monster in the backyard, and looking at it, I realized it's easily 6-7 rhubarb plants trapped in a tight spot growing on top of each other. So, I divided two off and have planted them in the front yard. They look sad right now, but they'll perk up! (fingers crossed!)


The neighbors have pretty tulips blooming in their front yard right now--the red with black center of poppies. . .


And the backyard got some love today, too. Dan cleared out old leaves and did some weeding. And I have filled loads of containers with new dirt and seeds. In a few weeks, I hope to see the start of hot pepper plants and nasturtiums and zucchini.

Easter and Passover Season

I'm not a very religious person. I was raised Presbyterian and was active in church until I fell away in my angry teen years--but more than any other season of the year, spring still seems attached to religion and the food that is attached to religious communities.

April pops up and every year, I get a yearning for hot cross buns, delicately poached fish on fridays, and homemade matzos ball soup (raised Presbyterian, but close friends all through childhood with loads of folks from the Catholic and Jewish communities of Cincinnati. Most closely tied to the Jewish community, though, as if the German-ness of both Presbys and Jews was the tie that bound us together in a German German German town).

I am also the daughter of both a gardening tribe (Hi, Mom's people!) and a farming tribe (Hey, Pop's peeps!) And so Spring is a season of hopeful, simple, ridiculously yummy food. Sweet sugar snap peas everywhere. The first fresh herbs of the season (sage, thyme, parsley, oregano, chives) showing up in pale flavor-rich soups and simple bean dishes.

My first venture into the new season:



The strength of this matzos ball soup was the broth--some homemade, some storebought, but all combined and recooked for an hour or so with a few pieces of garlic, bay leaves, celery leaves, peppercorns and a handful of uncut carrots. Ridiculous. The matzos balls could have been a little more flavorful and will be next time. . . but topped off with fresh parsley from the garden, it was pretty great anyway. . .

Spring in the City

Is filled with unexpected surprises. Everything blooms in the burbs and then a few weeks later everything blooms by the lake because of the 5-10 degree difference caused by Lake Michigan. So, I forget to expect two springs.

The other day, walking from the train to work, I turned the corner from Congress on to State and these little beauties knocked me out. I actually gasped. . .


I hope the kids who live in the University Center felt a little lucky to be welcomed by these this past week coming out of their dorms for classes.

My heart fills with joy and compost

I love the spring. All I want to do is garden and enjoy worms and green things and eat asparagus and new potatoes and spring onions and wear full knee-length skirts with woolen sweaters and flats.

I know I am an utterly spoiled American and so it's unlikely that I can fully commit to seasonal eating, but man, am I excited about eating all the stuff I've been eating all year round when it actually tastes like itself. Fresh berries and sweet sweet onions and the end of summer glory of tomatoes.

But, not much to be done outside yet. . . Despite the warm/hot weather this April, I know it could snow at the end of the month. So, I won't jump the gun. But there's no rule against seeing what all the cold frame Dan made for me can get done in this unseasonably warm weather. . .

L.P. helps me pick what to grow in the cold frame (or possibly, is just ripping the yard apart looking for the tiniest stick he can find to play with. . . using this photo evidence, you be the judge. . . )

There's bona fide Stewart/Phillips compost mixed into the potting soil in these seed starts. I'm hoping the seeds find that terrifically yummy. But you're looking at squash and artichokes and nasturtiums and beans and zinnias. . .

Chinatown and Spring

The chandeliers in the dimsum restaurant where D and I had lunch were ridiculously grand.


The world's cutest pasta ever. I'm not sure I'll ever eat it. I'll just take it from the pantry from time to time and admire its flowery cuteness.

A Summey April

An April so summery and lovely that even the students' bikes seem to be dressing up in their cheeriest colors.

Spring has Sprung

It was high 70's, low 80's Thursday and Friday. So every bud that's been thinking about opening for the past month did.

It's starting to look like spring around here. Rained all Saturday and so we lazed around the house, but the heat and the rain woke everything up.

Last night, on the final trip out with L.P., I heard the worms rustling through the grass and left over fall leaves. And I'm not kidding or exaggerating. The worms in our backyard are monstrous, and at night, after a steady rain, they come out to play. I've seen L.P. jump two feet straight in the air after stepping on one. They're fat and huge and fast.