sprung!

As of today, April 10, spring has sprung. In a big way.

Watching The Masters is a rite of springtime passage for Rob and me, and usually we watch the hallowed grounds of Augusta National, with its gorgeous azaleas and rhododendrons, and sigh longingly, knowing that our own spring bloom is another couple of weeks away.

Not this year.

After a brutally cold and snowy February and early March, Mother Nature decided that she, too, was sick of the cold and gray and threw the Spring Switch. Suddenly, almost overnight, we went from cloudy and 30 degrees to sunny and 70. We missed the usual stretch of 50–60 degree days ... sweatshirt-and-shorts weather. Instead, we blew full-on into early summer.

We opened the Side Porch Cafe weeks early, and had our first dinner al fresco last weekend. We spent today in the sunshine, spreading mulch (a job that's often done in cool temps).

Typically, spring brings a gradual awakening of the landscape: first, the weeping cherry blooms like a cheap prom dress, then the flowering crabapple, then the dogwoods come a week or two later. This year, the early magnolias and cherry trees are blooming right alongside the later dogwood and redbud. It's all happening at once. It's magnificent (and allergen-laden), but a bit disconcerting.

While I welcome the early patch of warm weather, it is compressing the spring growing season, and I fear that I'll blink and miss it.

I need to do a better job this spring of looking around and taking it all in.

spc.

Today, April 1, the temp hit 80 degrees. It's a Thursday. Rob is on hiatus, and I've decided it just isn't in the cards for me to go into the office tomorrow. It's the official 2010 debut of the Side Porch Cafe.

It's a glorious evening: we've chowed down on leftover party food from last night's get-together with Rob's former colleagues. The party was fantastic: good food, copious wine (today reminded me of going to class hung over during Little 500 week at I.U.) and great people. What amazed me, as always, was the genuine respect, friendship and admiration that Rob and his co-workers share(d). People think he's really neat. I think he's really neat.

Wrigley scored big-time from a few folks who kept sneaking tortilla chips and pita bread to him. Tonight, we went for a really long walk. Wigs was tired by the end, but then, so were we.

Life is good. It's good. It's April 1, and we have the house open. Spring is here. It's like winter never even happened. I think I have a new mom's amnesia for the pain of childbirth ... I can't even remember how awful February was, and it seems like the Side Porch Cafe has been in continuous operation forever.

Forever.

springing.

On our morning walk, I noticed more and more signs of spring emerging:

• The cherry trees are just barely starting to bloom
• Forsythia and magnolia are opening
• Daffodils are in their full yellow glory
• Grass is growing and greening up all over our neighborhood

In our own backyard, we're seeing nice growth from the lettuce I planted, and the forsythia are just starting to open. The hydrangea are starting to leaf out, and the lilac bushes are swollen with leaf and flower buds. The crabapple tree (which gets leaves first, then flowers) is starting to show green leaflets, and the weeping cherry (which flowers, then gets leaves) has swollen flower buds that will probably pop in another week or so. Rob expects to run the lawnmower for the first time this weekend.

Too, we anticipate opening the Side Porch on Saturday. Rob has done a masterful job refinishing the beadboard ceiling and repairing some broken trim. I'll clean up the furniture, wash out the glass jars that hold candles and vacuum the cushions on Saturday. We're having some folks over for cocktails next Wednesday, and the weather should be nice enough that we can be outdoors as well as in.

Hooray, Spring!

the puffy coat.

I have a long, black, down-filled, hooded coat from Lands' End that I've worn everysingleday since the beginning of January. I have other winter coats, ones that I quite like, including a brown wool car coat cut in a swingy style. I usually rotate coats depending on my attire on a particular day ... but the long puffy coat has been essential all winter, as we've had record cold and snowfall all through February.

I am hoping that this week is that last we'll see of the puffy coat this season.

Today, we sprung forward (an annual occurrence that makes me grouchy in the mornings for a good week). After a week of sunshine and temperatures in the low 60s, this weekend is cruelly rainy and cold. The cool damp has my bad shoulder aching.

I dodged raindrops today to plant pansies in the pots on the front porch ... after a long absence, the nurserymen are making a return appearance at Findlay Market on Saturday mornings. Rob is now out planting grass seed. The lettuce seeds I tucked into the window box last weekend are sprouting gaily; the four half-rows I put down in the cold frame aren't faring as well (they're a different variety, so they may take a bit longer to come in). I planted the other half-rows today and closed the lid to create a warmer microclimate in there. Last fall's garlic is a good 3 inches high, as are the chives in the herb bed.

Today is Selection Sunday; we're in for a good 3 weeks of March Madness, and then comes The Masters. Spring is at our doorstep.

olives.

Oh, by the way ... we have olives. We're such proud parents. After the beloved olive tree was COVERED with tiny, white, four-petaled flowers for the past 6 weeks or so, I researched how to pollinate it so that we might, perhaps, if we're lucky, maybe, have a tiny crop of olives. I e-mailed Ridgley Evers, the proprietor of our favorite source for olive oil, DaVero, for advice. Fortunately, he indulged this crazy girl from the Midwest with a potted indoor/outdoor olive tree and suggested that the olive is self-pollinating and all we needed to do was give it a bit of a hand. So we turned a gentle fan on the tree for a few days and hoped for the best. Mostly, the flower clusters turned dry and brown and fell to the floor. But on the side of the tree that faces our westerly window and caught what little February sun we had, there are a few microscopic olives on the branches. Trust me. When they're more than itty-bitty, I'll take a picture and post it here. And we'll be taking orders for the fall bottling of EVOO.

thaw.

Mooth 2.0 is in full swing, as you'll see shortly when Rob posts an update. This weekend's (finally!) warm and sunny weather has brought a real thaw to our frozen, gloomy, wintry world (and, personally speaking, an equally frozen, gloomy, wintry disposition).

Yesterday, realizing that the coldframe is now getting several hours worth of daytime sun (if it IS sunny, that is), I planted four half-rows of lettuce: Oliver, my favorite variety, and a new one (actually a very old European heirloom variety) called Yugoslavian Red. I did a bit of outdoor clean-up, we had a roaring fire going all afternoon in the firepit, and just generally spent the day outdoors.

That is, when we weren't tooling around in Rob's new car. Or loading our new washer and dryer.

Like I said, Mooth 2.0 is on the rise.

Today promises to be a slightly warmer version of yesterday. Righteous.

P.S. Wrigley is doing well. I felt awful that we had to board him while we were away for a few days last weekend, and it was tough on him. The cold cement floors were hard on the arthritic joints, and predictably he had a bit of system funk for a few days afterward. We have him on an antibiotic for intestinal issues, which works wonders (and quickly). Yesterday afternoon, he perked up noticeably, and he's been his Wiggle self again. We're still taking short, slow walks, but hope that the acupuncture and warmer weather will help pick up the pace soon.

so ready for spring.

Today is February 21. The Vernal Equinox is 29 days from now. I'm not sure I'm going to make it.

Over the past 10 days, we've had 12+ inches of snow in recurring wintry blasts. Only one day of sunshine. The snow is still chest-deep to Wrigley in the front yard, sidewalks in our neighborhood are still buried and the streets are pocked with potholes and littered with salt and debris. I'm tired of the cold, the gray, the general winter crud.

But spring will be here, I know. I have a box full of seeds from The Cook's Garden on my garden bench: five kinds of lettuce, two kinds of bean, carrot, and, to come, pepper and basil plants. We have materials for a new garden fence on order and I have a vine wreath to hang on the new garden gate. I found some colorful outdoor cushions yesterday that will be perfect on the green bench on the patio.

All three of us are ready for warmer weather so we can break this cycle of cabin fever and our joints will feel better. C'mon, Spring!

spring springs tomorrow.

Perhaps Rob was right after all (and he usually is): Spring will actually come. It will. In fact, it's due in tomorrow.

After a couple of warm days, today surprised me with its sunny sky and cool temperature. Given what I see out my office window, I was expecting the air to be toastier than it was when I went out for a lunchtime errand.

Things are just now starting to pop around our house and neighborhood: The backyard forsythia began to open up on Sunday and now is in what qualifies as full bloom. Daffodils have flowered everywhere. A few plum trees up the street are flowering, and some star magnolias, too. Grass that was hit with a dose of spring fertilizer is greening up. The snowdrops I see on our morning walk have already faded.

I guess he was right.

coldframe: week 1.

I'm impressed: The coldframe has created the perfect environment for our early spring seeding. This is after just one week; the arugula is going gangbusters and several other varieties are also sprouting nicely.

the coldframe.

Rob is the Best Guy Ever ... among many reasons, for the fact that he built me a coldframe. I am very excited at the prospect of getting a super early start on my vegetable gardening. He built it last weekend, and we painted it over several evenings this past week. Yesterday, we took advantage of the near 80 degree day to bring it outside so I could plant it. It seemed sort of silly to be planting a coldframe on such a warm day, but Rob was quick to remind me that this same weekend last year saw a blizzard with about a foot of snow, which scuttled our plans to go to Louisville for a concert. We will have plenty of cold days to come.

The coldframe is basically a wood-framed, portable greenhouse that takes up about a quarter of the vegetable bed. I planted three rows of lettuce, one each of arugula and mache, and a row of nasturtiums that I'll transplant to a pot later. The coldframe has two plexiglas lids that can be propped open or fully closed depending on the weather. This week, I'll keep the lid partway open, as it's supposed to be warmish for a few days. On cold days or nights, it gets shut up tight. If it gets well below freezing, I can place votive candles inside the frame and let them burn all night to prevent a hard frost.

If all goes according to plan, we'll have a crop of spring greens about 2-3 weeks early. As it warms up through March, I'll also plant greens on the other half of the garden so we'll have a succession of crops. I plan to take pictures and post them every week to chart our progress.

dear winter.

Dear Winter,

I remember fondly our first meeting in December. You came along at the right time; I'd put the garden to bed after the season and played my last round of golf, so your timing was ideal. It was a blast hanging out with you during the holidays—you charmed me with the light snow flurries you brought, and I loved how your cold, brisk nights made the Christmas lights seem to dance.

And then ... Then I began to see things in you I didn't like so much. Sure, I loved spending a snow day off work with you. And the icy tree branches were lovely shimmering in the sun. But don't you think the widespread power outages were a bit excessive? And that snow squall was an unexpected surprise—but really? At rush hour?

Now, well, now it's over. You're so cold, you just won't give me space ... we have nothing in common anymore. I'm sorry, Winter, but it's over between us.

It's not me, it's you.

snowy day.

Just last week, Rob and I were commenting that we'd made it through almost the end of January without a significant snowfall. We should have knocked wood ...

... today, we got a pretty good dump (5 inches, maybe) with more to come tonight and tomorrow. Interstates are shut down in various spots so I'm working from home, with a cup of coffee within reach and a sleepy dog curled up on his pillow across the room.

We took our regular morning walk about 7 a.m., when it was dark and still and quiet. It's been cold, so the snow is the light, powdery kind that doesn't pack (no snowman-making for us), which made walking uphill quite a workout. Wrigley had a bit of trouble with snow-packed paws, but we got through all right. It was pretty, a good start to the morning. Off to work now ...

a cold winter's day.

Not as cold as yesterday, but still really cold. As we drove down Columbia Parkway to the market this morning, the sky was a brilliant pinkorangegold and it made me think it might get sunny, but not so much. We'll brave the elements later to take Wigs out for a spin. We all need to get outside.

These winter days I always hold out a bit of hope: We've hit the coldest stretch of the year, yet the days are growing perceptibly longer; there was a sun delay on my way home. So there's that.

Doing chores today, I was thrilled THRILLED to see a cluster of buds on my beloved olive tree. It has never borne fruit, and now there are two tiny bud clusters. The tree drops leaves in the winter just as it hits a growth spurt (old making way for new, I suppose). Here's a blurry photo:

a cold night.

On my way home, I debated going to the gym vs. taking a walk and decided I'd see how eager Wrigley was to get outside when I got home. Turns out, OHF had a huge case of The Puppies, so out we went. It was a cold night, and as we walked toward Hyde Park Square, I heard the bells at Knox Presbyterian chiming one of my favorite Christmas carols, "O Come, O Come Emmanuel." And we spotted a show in the sky: the conjunction of Venus, Jupiter and the Moon. It was a beautiful sight on a brisk almost-winter evening, and I'm glad I didn't miss it. The gym can wait until tomorrow.

blustery.

Lots of snow flurries today, and a cold wind. Lettuce is still thriving in the garden (for now); I should have picked when I got home, but it was too dark and cold. The orchid that enjoyed its summer days on the side porch is now on my office window ledge, where it's sending up its third (!) bloom stalk of the season.

november 16.

We woke to the faintest dusting of snow on the roof and a morning of freezing drizzle. It's the perfect day to stay indoors, make some soup (Lively Up Yourself Lentil Soup) for this week's lunches and watch football. Hardy Bengals fans next door got an 8 a.m. start heading for tailgating downtown; they were bundled up against the cold, but probably not against another loss. The flowering crabapple has nothing but the little red apples on its branches; the weeping cherry has wept its yellow leaves all over the yard. The lawn needs raking today, but the weather says, "Stay indoors, you."