Random Acts of Spring

Well, it’s here.

Or at least we think it’s here. (Spring.)

Based on the air quality today, however, my guess would be that we pretty much are skipping Spring and heading straight to Humidity. After a long winter, I’ll try my best not to complain.

It’s just that my hair is…

It’s just that my armpits are…

It’s just that my feet really do…

Speaking of feet, I just don’t get all these people jumping up and down for joy because they get to put their socks away for the season and wear flip flops. Am I the only one who wishes she could wear socks all summer long? Am I the only one with sweaty, slippery, slimy, smelly feet? (Socks help.)

So, I finally, finally, FINALLY picked asparagus this morning!

And then I promptly made this:

Which really does not look very good in that picture, but I can assure you it was. One note: I sniped some chives to sprinkle on the top; I always seem to forget to use chives. And for how much I hate the damn plants (see here), you’d think I would at least try to get some enjoyment out of them.

And here’s what I realized today:

I have dug so many chive plants out of my garden, cursing the whole while, that I have come to associate the taste/smell (they are one in the same) to be a bad thing.

So, my aesthetic attempt to make the plate prettier almost ruined my enjoyment of the meal!

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. I hate chives. I used to say “the plant and not the food.” But now I think I have to say “the plant AND the food.” The cycle is complete.

Speaking of chives, (isn’t that the worst lead in for a topic? I don’t think I’ve ever heard a story that starts with “speaking of…___” that I really wanted to hear. Oh well. Stop reading if you must.)

…I was spreading compost on Sunday — a full month later than last year, due to our late Spring — and came across tons of this weird matted grass stuff that hadn’t fully composted.

I could break up the bundles with my hands, as I pretty much do for all the compost, since I never turn it and it needs to be ‘fluffed’ before spreading

(sorry – over-exposure!)

And when it’s all broken up it looks more like this

And if I step back one more step, it looks like this

Which is really crazy, if you look at that top layer. You’d never think the compost underneath was ready! But anyway, I just kept coming across those very dense, matted grassy clumps. I just couldn’t figure out what they were. And then I saw this…

Chives! Living, breathing, green, flippin’ CHIVES! How did they get there, you ask? Well, here’s an excerpt from last year or the year before, when I dug out massive, overgrown clumps of chives. I can’t remember when; I’ve blocked it out:

The impromptu plan was to dig them all and toss them into the weeds. Or the compost pile. Would they adequately die in the compost pile? Or would they take root in there and cause me no end of problems come spring? Worse, if I tossed them into the deep grass outside the garden, would they root out there and take over our entire prairie? So many things to contemplate as I dug these horrific, good-for-nothing plants! So huge! So heavy!

Then, I noticed all the worms living in the mat of roots beneath the surface. Would they die if I heaved the 30 pound plant hunks into the void? Are worms active enough this time of year to move their locale? Maybe I should put them carefully into the compost pile. Poor little worms. Such hard workers in the garden…

Suffice to say, I did indeed put them into the compost pile. I knew they wouldn’t die easily and I took measures, continually turning them over to expose the roots to air, and when that didn’t work, hitting them with RoundUp. (I know. That’s cheating.) RoundUp seems to kill everything you don’t want it to kill.

Because, to what should my wondering eyes appear? …but a miniature shoot and 8 tiny chives (not so) dear.

I hate chives.

On a good note, I don’t hate Pokie.

And I almost never hate Lola.

…who always looks so stupid in photos. I assure you she is not. And that’s why I sometimes don’t like her. I would prefer a dumb dog to a brilliant one.

AND, I don’t hate my Mother’s Day flowers.

…because Morgan made them for me and of course I don’t hate her.

Even though she is a 16 year old girl. Was I ever like that?

Anyway, that’s it for now. I’m sure I’ll be telling you how much I hate asparagus* very soon. (But not yet!)

*now would be a convenient time for all you locals to conveniently stop by to drop off some fictitious object and casually ask for a ‘garden tour.’