signs of spring.

Today is Opening Day, which is surely a good sign. I'm half tempted to blow off work and go downtown for the Findlay Market Parade. In spite of continued gray skies (which have seemed eternal all during February and March), I'm seeing tiny signs of spring:

• the faintest haze of green in the low brush along roadsides
• plum trees in bloom
• our forsythia are about to pop into bloom
• lots of bird activity
• the lawn is getting its green color back
• daffodils!

miscellaneous goings on.

Well, the weather conspired to thwart our previous planting efforts, so yesterday Rob re-planted grass seed and I redid the lettuce/radishes/carrots that I'd planted in the vegetable bed two weeks ago. Cold weather and a ton of rain did not ideal germinating conditions make.

Friday was the annual Wine Fest, always a great time. (Things were a bit spinny when I went to bed.) We tasted a bunch of great wines, the standouts being:

Coppola Rubicon: Four Stars!!!
Hendry Primitivo: Three Stars!!!
Another Primitivo we liked: Layer Cake
Viognier Fest: Zaca Mesa, Bridlewood, Renwood
Domaine Chandon Petit Meunier: a Side Porch quaffer for sure
King Piniot Noir: Oregon Pinot strikes again (their Pinot Grigio was great, too)
Gallo Frei Ranch Cabernet
Four Vines Zinfandel

Right now, we've got a whole chicken seasoned and ready to go into the oven, per a recipe from Alice Waters' "The Art of Simple Food." My friend Sam Harrison was kind enough to send the book to me out of the blue last week, and I've enjoyed reading it (it's one of those rare read-able cookbooks) and look forward to cooking from it for years to come.

before & after.

Wrigley got a much-needed haircut today. A trip to Le Spa Wiggy. Even the groomer remarked, "Boy, he sure was hairy!" Here's a before & after:

a kind of community.

Karma was in full force at Findlay Market on Saturday morning. Or love. Or God, or just a neat sense of community. Whatever it was, it felt good.

Findlay is very much a community, and we're very much a part of it. We chuckle at all the predictable habits of the regulars (fully recognizing that we're just as much in that camp and probably chuckle-worthy ourselves). There's the annoying woman who's kind of loud and always talks with the vendors when plenty of other people are standing in line. The tiny, stooped elderly woman who's always impeccably groomed with pulled-back hair and a sort of garish coral lipstick (she wears it well). The group of four men, with their penny loafers and ruddy cheeks, who move en masse down the aisle. The neighborhood folks towing wheeled shoppers.

And then there's Julie. Julie sells Street Vibes every Saturday morning, and she knows no strangers. Everyone who buys Street Vibes from Julie gets a hug. I suspect that others do what Rob does and slip her a five for the one-dollar paper. Julie is a fixture, and she's unfailingly upbeat. Which is why, a couple of weeks ago, her distress at losing her apartment thanks to a deadbeat landlord who blew off his mortgage payments was so real. She fretted over having to find a new place, to come up with the hundred and fifty bucks or so she needed for a moving truck, to find several hundred for a security deposit. Two weeks ago, Rob folded two twenties together and passed them off to her; she didn't even notice.

Yesterday, she was there, with Easter cards for both of us and a gift for me (she didn't find for Rob exactly what she was looking for). It's a red nylon jacket, something that I don't need and that she had no business spending on. But next weekend and while it's still cool out, I'll wear it (she thoughtfully chose my size and favorite color). We were both in tears.

All told, the market was in fine form ... the lady from Thistlehair Farm was there for the first time with lettuce and greens; several of the other small vendors had moved outdoors. The nursery guy was there with pansies. I bought. I planted.

And I planted in the vegetable bed, too. I turned over the soil and added organic compost, then leveled everything off. Three kinds of lettuce, carrots and radishes (that's a post for another day) went into tidy rows marked with white plant labels. The garden doesn't look like much right now ... it just looks like potential, possibility.

a reasonable alternative to fast food.

For awhile last year, I was on an unfortunate kick of Lean Cuisines for lunch. They're convenient enough, and they taste OK (the Santa Fe Beans & Rice is a particularly good one), but I started feeling weird about all the additives and preservatives (not to mention sodium) in those little black plastic trays.

The wakeup call came when I recognized the irony of eating a nuked meal at my desk while reading "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle." There were so many things wrong with that picture, not the least of which was eating at my desk.

So over the last several months, I've re-committed to bringing a healthy lunch. You'll note the importance I place on a good lunch by observing that it's a regular topic category here on mooth. My favorite destination for recipes has been 101cookbooks.com, where I've discovered all kinds of healthy, hearty and well-balanced salads: white bean/spinach/walnut/goat cheese, roasted squash/farro, fresh ravioli/spinach, quinoa/zucchini. Heidi Swanson favors all kinds of protein-packed whole grains like farro and quinoa, which are satisfying and not overly filling.

Which brings me to today's lunch—and, oddly, back to the microwave. A week or 2 ago, when I knew I wouldn't have time to make a big batch of something to take to work all week, I snagged a couple of Kashi frozen meals from the freezer in the organic section at the grocery. Oh, my, are they terrific! All the ones I've tried are based on Kashi's 7-grain pilaf, which is tasty and good for you. So then, I picked up a box of the pilaf, which (combined with a bit of sauteed onion and red pepper) made a terrific base for seared sea scallops.

I [heart] Kashi.

But be forewarned: Too much Kashi product in one day does not a happy tummy make. Monday, I mixed some Good Sense high-protein/fiber cereal in with my Frosted Cheerios, then snacked on some Kashi 7-grain crackers mid-morning and then had a Kashi lunch. Mph.

maybe.

After weeks of pissing and moaning about the weather (cold, dark gray, with this almost constant snow/rain/sleet thing going on), we've finally reached March 1. And Rob is quick to point out all the things that will happen in March, in an effort to lighten my mood:

• Daylight savings
• Opening day
• a couple of trips
• planting seeds (grass may be going down tomorrow; lettuce isn't far behind)
• Wine Fest

Tonight, we had our first outdoor cocktail experience: vodka tonics on the patio, along with a roaring fire in the fire pit. Lovely. Right now, the landscape looks sodden, scruffy and sad. But soon it'll start to green up. The days are noticeably getting longer. My order from Cooks Garden arrived last week, and I've cut a second batch of sprigs from the forsythia for forcing (the first batch was neat). So things are, indeed, looking up.

BTW, here's something to share: Last summer, we visited Chicago and came upon The Spice Shop on North Wells (Bill! Go here!). We purchased a couple of wonderful spice blends, including one we used for very first (but most definitely not last) time tonight: Old Taylor Street Cheese Sprinkle. OMG -- this sh*t makes some SERIOUSLY good garlic bread. Wow.