Asparagus.

Lewisburg.

First asparagus of the season:


And, since it's a new patch, the first harvest for us. Ever. It's quite exciting.

Spring liveliness.

Lewisburg.

I planted my strawberries today - three weeks after they arrived - and I'm pleasantly sore from lugging several yards of soil about the yard. (There's still more to go, but it's less pressing.)

It's getting ickily humid, with thunderstorms potentially arriving any moment, but there's been just enough evening light for a few photos.

The hops are getting big. Fast. This one's over two feet, from barely finger-length less than two weeks back:


The Asian pears are just about to burst into bloom:


Peaches, on the other hand, aren't waiting:


And, as near as I can tell, the blackcurrant bush is happy. It was a sudden gift from our friends Matt and Nina, who moved from Lewisburg last summer. Nina couldn't bear leaving it to be ignored - or worse, torn out - by the subsequent renters, and asked if we'd please take it. The deathly dry August weather didn't give me too much hope for a good relocation, but there wasn't a choice. But, hey, it's looking lively:


So while I've been doing all this, my neighbors have been mowing their lawns. Ah, the impending tedium.

Spring pictures.

Lewisburg.

With a little sunshine, it's looking more and more like spring. (That and the two neighbors out on their lawnmowers.)

The first violet of the season:



The daffodils are in full bloom:



So's the hyancinth. Fragrant, too.



Rhubarb's wasting no time:



And the hop shoots are coming on fast. With a little luck, I'll finish up the new supports tomorrow - concrete's curing right now - and get the best ones trained.



The rest, of course, are just another spring vegetable treat.

Dandelions.

Lewisburg.

So far, spring's been a bust. I'm weeks behind schedule for planting peas - it's been too cold and too wet - and I've been so desperate to get trees¹ transplanted that I've been digging out in the rainstorms. Tomorrow, assuming the nine inches of water drains from the post holes, I'll be setting the new hop supports system in concrete. If not, maybe Friday?

Even the dandelions are in short supply thus far, though I was able to collect enough for a few meals from the warm spots about the house. On the south side, where we're busy tearing out the expired yews the previous owner left, the sun plus reflected light from the house has given a handful of dandelions enough warmth to sprout. Just a few minutes of digging, followed by plenty of washings² to remove the accumulated mud and debris, and it's wonderful, delicious spring greens.

The small and tender greens are tasty nibbled raw, with just a little bitterness. I tend to eat a few while I'm cooking, or if I'm working outside. Most, though, I blanch to strip off the bitterness, to keep it from overwhelming everything else. Fifteen seconds in salted, boiling water does the trick. The leaves wilt, but stay green. The bitterness is gone. And a dousing in cold water keeps them looking good.



I cooked the first handful with a few sliced mushrooms, topped with some slices of homemade pancetta. A little barley cooked in chicken stock, left over from another dinner, and some sauteed broccoli with garlic and wild onions. Though I'm not overwhelmed by their flavor - it's distinctly different from the cultivated alliums - a little bit is nice for variety. Besides, they're the only edible plants growing happily outdoors.



Tonight, more dandelion greens, blanched and sauteed with shallots. Tossed with fresh orecchiette³ and some local arugula, chopped and wilted by the pasta's heat out of the pan. A few crispy croutons from an old loaf of bread, and a grating of parmesan cheese.

So, basically a warm pasta salad. Nothing wrong with that.

Spring is coming, though. Soon. The rhubarb is coming out; the strawberries are coming back to life; the hops are sending up shoots like mad; and I spotted the first clump of field mustard, almost ready for picking.

* * * * *

¹Three pears and three hickory. I'd ordered another pear and several bush cherries, but supplies ran short for this year. Though I was initially disappointed, my back and shoulders are currently thrilled.

²Six before bagging, then again once more before cooking. It's a mess outside.

³Mine aren't traditional, since I make them from an egg pasta dough, but they're easy to shape by hand and have a nice, chewy texture. When we're loaded with broccoli raab from the garden, it's usually the first dish. Orecchiette are also a handy fallback for pasta-plus-vegetable meals, where it's not so much a sauce as chunks with olive oil, red pepper, and parmesan.