ode on a grapevine.

I can't find the post, but somewhere along the line, I noted that I'd like to have a grapevine in a pot on the side porch. I'd linked to Napa Style, where you can purchase a vinifera vine for, oh, a hundred bucks or so. NOT. So I ordered one via Amazon for about $30. It's a Chardonnay. It came neatly boxed; I transplanted it into a glazed pot and stuck it in our west-facing window for a few weeks.

It's gone nuts.

I have some weird kind of affinity for my Chardonnay vine, and also for my Mission olive tree, which made it from here to New Jersey and back, and is absolutely thriving. I simply love it. Like, LOVE it.

I mentioned my recent grapevine purchase (with a kind of, "Yeah, I know it's silly" sort of sheepish look) at work recently, and my colleague Carmen exclaimed: "That's so Italian!"

Exactly. The grapevine reminds me of lovely times spent with Rob in California wine country, and the olive takes me immediately to the grounds of Toscana Saporita in Italy, where Rob and I visited Bill several years ago. Rob and Bill took advantage of a seasonal spring Tuscan day, I clambered up into an ancient olive tree on the estate, where I sat watching Bill and Rob play ping-pong on an outdoor table in the sunshine. Perfect.

feelin' groovy.

Several things are brushing away the gloom of this cold, rainy spring Sunday: A bunch of ranunculus I bought at Findlay Market yesterday, a batch of chocolate-chip-granola-butterscotch-chip cookies, and a sleepy dog.


Yesterday, I took advantage of my energy for doing round-the-house projects (and Rob's absence, since he went to help Team Major Taylor at the Little 500 in Bloomington), and got the side porch all put together: vacuumed cushions, washed the faux-wicker furniture, got out the rug, assembled my glass-jar-and-sand candles. It was nasty cold, and there's no chance of using the porch in the next couple of days. But the weather's due to turn nice later in the week, and I wanted to have it all ready.

ta-da.

ssh ... I'm posting @ work ...

Last night marked the opening of the Side Porch Cafe. While Rob ran the lawnmower, I sponged the winter crud off the bistro table and chairs, tied on the seat cushions, swept the porch and got out a few candles. That, plus a nice rose to mark the change of seasons, was a fitting debut for the SPC. It's a nice neighborhood spot, the food's good, the wine is excellent and the view is lovely. You should go. Except you'll never get a table.

an accounting of spring.

All of a sudden, things are starting to bloom big-time around these parts. Rob kept telling me that spring was really, truly on the way, and I was skeptical. Until now.

On the way in this morning, I spotted:

Star magnolias and those big, blushy purple ones
Rhododendron
Forsythia (ours are going nuts)
Flowering plum
Bradford pear (they smell like feet)

Our flowering crabapples are leafed out and ready to bloom, and the lilacs are about a week from blossom. Lettuce and radish seedlings are up.

Oh, and I took my first Claritin of the season last night.

Ah, spring.

food for thought.

Allison Arieff's By Design blog on NYTimes.com points out a program called Edible Estates: Attack on the Front Lawn -- it encourages people to turn their grass into garden (vegetable garden, that is). Whatcha think, Rob? ;-)