April Chased by the Sun

This morning, I woke up groggy, but my wherewithal became clearer when I spotted a buttering of the treetops as the early sunlight touched the treetops. After three days of gray-colored and wet skies, this morning’s backdrop promised blue. However, I heard the hum of a furnace so I knew there must be a nip in the air. Indeed it was 37°F.

I hurried out to the woodshed to gather dried spruce kindling, some thicker pieces of sumac and to round out the perfect fire staring trifecta, a couple chunks of dried red oak. These are the necessary foodstuffs that my kitchen wood burning stove depends on if it is to share its warmth with us.

I am boldly declaring that this will be the last kitchen fire needed for the spring. The advent of May is only two days away and yet the yard and woods is already impatient with the stretch of chilly weather.

The past few days have forced me to dig out the wool sweater that I had put into its summer hibernacula only a week ago. This bout of a mini-November in the fourth month has been made more dark by the news of the untimely passing of Minnesota’s own Prince.

And I wonder if my April murdering of the big neighborhood gobbler that had strutted with his harem of hens is being mourned amongst the local flora and fauna. I will admit that joy wasn’t paramount in my person but I am pleased and thankful that the bird will eventually grace our dining table.

But even with the touch of ice on yesterdays back steps and the long day’s drizzle, the world around us says “Spring is in the air.”

It seems foolish that the rapidly growing interrupted ferns are busy shrugging off their shrouds of wooly covering. I expect that in the next couple of weeks the hummingbirds will return. They will then busy themselves getting on with claiming a territory, mating and nest building. The fleecy fern covering is often used for lining a hummingbird’s tiny nest, no bigger than a fifty cent piece. (Do you remember such a coin?)

We have already tasted spring in the new growth of stinging nettles. Sautéed, the six inch plants are rendered harmless and delicious at the same time. Rich in nutrients they are a fine addition to scrambled eggs.

And the elderberry flowers seem inspired by the chill of April. Like the nettles, these are culinary delights as well. A hat full of picked blossoms will momentarily tossed, for seconds only, into a hot cast iron frying pan with spitting hot oil. Then they are taken out and dusted in powdered sugar for a real spring treat.

The azalea, planted over a score of years ago outside our back porch is an intrepid outsider transplanted to Minnesota. It seems early to have such a celebration of purple. Or is it more than coincidence that these flowers reign purple?

Clearly we have much to celebrate. Get outside and join in.

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