May Drama and. . .

 

The rebirth of the land is always miraculous to me. I think of it as The Great Unfurling. It starts with a green haze, and fern fists raising out of the ground, and moves on to the lush landscape that I love in Maine. To be fair, it always feels about 3 weeks later than it should be here. And I don't remember being quite this thirsty for it in previous years. I expect it's the stress of the political upheaval. Spring reminds us that things come around again. At least this year.

The green haze moves like a cloud shadow over the landscape. I appreciate the fact that the conifers remain green all year, but my heart really belongs to the deciduous trees that seem to die and rise up year after year.

I had some big electronic drama a couple of weeks ago, which is to say that I actually have a reason for being so long between posts. I accidentally locked down my phone and other i- devices, and it appeared that I had lost all of my contacts, photos, the whole mess. I'm not overly concerned about any of the photos except the ones with John and Jasper in them, but still. I had stopped using the cloud because it was always annoying me. 

 

But. Then a shocking thing happened. About 3 days after the scurrying about with it. . .the "I am too dependent on my phone" recriminations, and the "How could I be so stupid" lashings, the photos just reappeared. Looks like I won't be dropping Apple products after all. So much time wasted, though, and a lot of investment from my most noble IT person. What patience that man has.

And here's a most positive harbinger of the growing season! Asparagus. These were our first this season. I have a complicated relationship with asparagus. The taste and smell of them takes me back to sitting at my childhood dining room table, chewing and chewing and chewing, trying to swallow the very fibrous stems of the overcooked spears. Growing and harvesting your own, and removing the tough bottoms, is a whole 'nother deal, of course, but the memory remains. Still. We had 2 lovely dinners based on them (a pizza and an orzo casserole that John made), and they're still giving us food, with the rhubarb coming in fast on their heels. And ack. I still have some rhubarb in the freezer. What. Wealth.

And. By our somewhat questionable calculation, Jasper is 15 years old today. We're not sure that's right. When I questioned his rancher/breeder/owner on Mother's Day of 2020, he said he was 10. He didn't look 10 to me then, and when I said that, the rancher said "I'm not sure. He might be 8". He has a lot of dogs, and a Whole Lot More sheep, so he can be forgiven. Jasper is quite deaf, and his eyesight can't always track the tennis ball. But he hiked a mountain with us today, and greatly enjoyed the picnic at the top. Happy Mother's Day to all of us who have ever nurtured another. And Happy Birthday to you, Jasper. Whenever it may be.