Worms, Asphalt and Hay

Spring.  Nothing is predictable this year.  Several farmers in the area are cutting and baling hay already.  I've never seen them put up hay this early.  That sweet smell took me by surprise last week as I drove the back road home, and sure enough there were the tractors out in the field rolling the long rows of cut grass into large, round bales.

Another sweet smell greeted me in the last few days too. Asphalt.  Yes, the acrid bite of hot tar and the crunch of the fine pieces slapping the side of the car were beautiful.  It means that the pot holes that have plagued us all winter on the country roads are gone.  No more swerving to keep from being swallowed up by the big holes.  No more driving on the wrong side to find a bit of pavement still intact and not totally eaten away.  I had become so used to avoiding the pot holes that I find it difficult to just drive our roads normally! 

What is becoming a perennial sign of spring here is the defoliation of the pine trees.  We have an annual infestation of small worms that eat every bit of green from the pines except the new shoots at the end of the branches.  Right now the trees look ruined and dead.  They just hold out their tender green candles and hope to survive the worms.  With any luck, they will be back in full needle in a few weeks.  Right now, they are a pitiful sight.  The foresters say there is nothing we can do outside of an aerial spraying, and who would want to be coated in insecticide?

So spring continues, and I wait for the next surprises it will bring.

Vegetable Coats

Here it is the end of April and we are still bouncing back and forth between summer and winter.  The temperature at night, which has been balmy, is now flirting with freezing.  I've scraped frost off of the car windshield and had to dig out my heavier coat again.  The coats for the vegetables are less than flattering.  I keep a box of rags, and so on these near freezing nights you can find the tomato towers wrapped in old, frayed towels.  The squash plants are covered in bits of old sheets while the peppers sport an assortment of wash cloths and hand towels.  The garden looks like someone dumped the rag box on it, which I guess I did!  Although it is not beautiful, the old rags have kept the plants safe from the frost. The tomato blossoms seem to have survived, and those bundled up vegetables look beautiful to me on a frosty morning.

Morel Mushrooms

They say April is the "cruelest" month.  It might be because the weather is so fickle.  One day it is 80 degrees and the next day it is 50 degrees.  Maybe April is cruel because the showers that are promised in the rhyme to bring the May flowers sometimes inundate the fields or bring hail.  But I think the real reason that April is cruel is that just when I am dreaming of their sweet buttery goodness, there are no morel mushrooms to be found.

The environment here is not right for morels.  I've tramped my woods and looked next to every dead log and under all the May apples, and there is not a morel in sight.  For one thing, we don't have good deep black dirt here.  We have red, chert rock filled soil.  Not a good morel seedbed.  Even though it has been years since I lived in good morel country, in April my mouth still waters for the unique flavor of the little sponge looking caps.  

If you are lucky enough to find morels, you have to soak them first in salt water before you cook them.  Ants tend to like to live in the sponge like folds, but a good soaking removes anything lingering there.  Dip the sweet morsels in flour and fry in butter.  It only takes a few minutes to have a crispy sweet bite that rivals anything else on earth.  My mouth waters just thinking about them. We used to find them by the sack full, and every night the main course was fried morels.  In about a week the season was over, but the joy of those delicate fungi lingers.  Alas, but another cruel April will pass, and I can only dream of morels.