NEWS FROM THE HILLS

Minnie and I went out looking for spring yesterday. We knew she had arrived; the calendar said so, and the spring peepers had been announcing it for several days. We found a sign of her in the yellow Easter flower that Minnie sniffed, her little bobbed tail wagging furiously.

The warm sunshine bathed us benevolently as we stooped to examine a clump of blooming chickweed, which we gathered for the laying hens. This is not exactly a sure sign of spring, however, as this common weed grows from January to December in all parts of our state. Our cockatiel Zoe loved it, as do the chickens.

We found a lot of dandelion greens that are tender and palatable right now. We left them for another day, as this was a scouting expedition rather than a foraging trip. As we passed the lilac bush, we saw another sign of spring in the fat, swollen buds. Minnie made a sudden dash across the road toward the squirrel feeder, but the bushy-tailed animals had left the breakfast bar and gone about their business.

We went on up to the dog pen, where Criss’ Norwegian dog, Lady, lay cuddled with her fat baby puppies. “This is a sign of spring too, Minnie,” I told her. “Spring calves, baby lambs and long-legged colts are born this time of year.” Minnie cocked her head but didn’t say anything. She was probably thinking that she would never be a mother.

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She’s not too enthused about the puppies anyway. She thinks that I am her exclusive property, and frowns on any animal that gets too close to me. She growls at Chester the cat when he climbs on my lap to be petted. She doesn’t share very well.

We peeped (or I did) in the bluebird box to see if they were nesting yet, but couldn’t tell. I remember one year when I looked inside the box, putting my face up close and peering in, when a startled bluebird flew out, almost hitting me. I am a little more careful now.

We circled the strawberry patch, where spring had certainly visited. New plants were growing over the sides of the raised bed, thick and healthy. Rosy-red buds were coming through the soil where the rhubarb was planted, and the raspberry vines were budding.

The crowning touch of spring came when we found the scattered violets on the grassy bank above the garden—tiny blue flowers that were peeping shyly through the green grass. It is curious that no matter how many seasons we see come and go, it is always a thrill to witness the awakening of the earth when spring comes.

We came back to the house confident that spring was here. She may retreat for a few days when cold weather makes a comeback, but she will return to stay. We haven’t had our equinox storm yet (Mom always called it the Easter squall.)

Ramona Erwin of Hurricane wrote to inquire about the wildflower called “windflower.” Actually, this is a common name of the wood anemone and also the rue anemone. These delicate, slender flowers appear in rich woods in early spring, often in sizable stands. The wood anemone has only one solitary white flower, whereas the rue anemone has several stalked white flowers. Sometimes the flowers are tinged with pink. They are slender-stalked and tremble in the slightest breeze, and thus are called “wind flowers.”

There is nothing more satisfying than to tramp through the woods in early spring, when the woodland plants and flowers begin to appear. It makes a person aware of the world and its beauty, which God has given for us to enjoy.

There is not only beauty in the woods and fields, but the first edible wild foods are beginning to appear. I want to gather some dandelion greens while they are still young and tender. As they mature, they get tough and bitter. I found a recipe that I aim to try:

DANDELION CROWN SALAD

Look for the rosettes of last year’s dandelions; they are easy to find once the snow has melted. (If you can find some that are coming up underneath a board or other covering, they will be white and tender.) Slice through the deep taproot with a sharp knife and pull up the crown. You will be able to see the unopened flower buds among the blanched leaves.

Wash well; cut away the taproot and pull off any old dead leaves. Trim leaves and stems about an inch above ground level; the young stems and buds will hold together like a small crown.

Blanch briefly in hot water; then cool to remove all traces of bitterness. If you prefer the slight bite of the raw green, don’t blanch.

Combine three cups of dandelion crowns with three wild onions or ramps, washed well and chopped. Add dressing made with 1/2 cup of olive oil and ¼ cup apple cider vinegar. Garnish with hard boiled egg slices.

Mountain folk seem to hanker for a mess of wild greens early in the spring, when grocery store greens don’t satisfy. The Lord not only dresses our hills in spring beauty, but also provides us with a bountiful supply of wild foods.

Mom used to sing a little song about the month of March, and it comes to mind this time of year. It goes like this:

There’s a month in each year, which always seems drear,

For thirty-one days or so, but look at it right

And all will seem bright, and jolly wherever you go.

For March is a jolly old month you know,

Jolly as jolly can be,

Sometimes it’s snowing and freezing and blowing,

But sometimes it’s fair you see;

But no matter however the weather,

Just whistle awhile and sing,

The North wind may blow,

But you always can know

That just ‘round the corner is spring.

I don’t have a grandchild tale this week, but I do have a blonde joke. Actually, it is a true tale. Our family is mostly blonde, or at least we started out that way. The years have taken their toll, and some of us are platinum now–but is that not a shade of blonde?

Three of my sisters and a blonde niece got together at Mary Ellen’s house in Ravenswood for a day of fellowship and food. Mary Ellen gave them directions for the trip home, and Jeannie said they followed them to a “T.” They ended up in Ohio. Julie commented, “It’s not wise to have the blonde leading the blind.”