Covid has made me a complainer. First, I whine when it’s cold and wet. Then when it’s hot and dry for one day it annoys me. But I have absolutely nothing about which to complain. I have food, live in a beautiful place, and am able to come and go relatively easily.

Spring is nearly at its absolute finest. The ornamental cherry’s are spectacular, magnolias are in bloom, the lilacs are about to pop, and the vegetable garden is coming right along.

I started a package of bok choy about a month ago. I put half of the seedlings into my unheated hoop-house and the other half right into the ground outside. The hoop-house plantings went to seed in record time without forming the classic ribs. Not one to waste food, I pulled them all, cleaned and chopped them into one-inch stems, then sautéed them briefly with some spring garlic, olive oil and balsamic vinegar. They were a wonderful hot salad.

Speaking of spring garlic, if left in the ground at harvest time they will return the following year as a large clump. I’ve been digging them and eating them like scallions. Recently, back to work in someone else’s garden I found thousands of them (I know I’m the queen of superlatives) from a planting, maybe, 10 years ago.

Just last Tuesday night I had a freeze at my place so I am a bit hesitant to put the tenders outside. One year I lost all my peppers at the end of May so I am cautious.

My quince is in full bloom and it has produced several babies that are also blooming. They are a mere two-feet tall. They are difficult to move, however, because they are still attached to the parent plant by a thick root.

The field at the Tashmoo overlook has had its spring mowing. A nice heart-shaped “crop circle” was created below the parking area. Perhaps you recall there was a heart on the sled-riding hill most of the winter.

My friend, Marie, makes fun of me for saying sled-riding. Her Boston upbringing led to saying simply sledding. Expressions are so regional. My friend, Sharlee, was of mid-Western origin. She uses the term walker-jawed to mean crooked.

Sorry, readers, I’m over-exposed to my own self and just ramble these days.

It’s been 50 years since the shootings at Kent State and Jackson State. I was living in Washington DC at the time but home for a visit in Pennsylvania when the news broke. I high-tailed it back to Washington to join an enormous demonstration There were city buses end-to-end surrounding Richard Nixon’s White House. Someone boosted me up onto the roof of one of the buses to see military police with assault rifles standing shoulder to shoulder. I still get the chills at the thought. We were tear-gassed and chased by mounted police wielding night sticks.

Fast-forward to armed men intimidating the Governor of Michigan in the State House. Our democracy has been messy at times but let’s hope we get through this latest crisis intact.

Stay safe all.