After the Rain

The first rain of May began Saturday night (yes, I went out and got wet) and continued through Sunday, thoroughly soaking the garden and all those seeds and plants that Shelia and I had put in. By the time it finally quit, the rain gauge said we'd gotten three inches and all the branches were roaring.

We are high above the river and flooding isn't something that happens on our place. But as I drove to town yesterday, the river was well out of its bounds.

A Great Blue Heron was wading through the pasture.

He posed patiently.

And the day was crystal clear in spite of a forecast that had called for possible showers.
Beautiful May.

 

Old Barn

 

 

 

 

 

A Friendship

 Shelia and I have been friends since the seventh grade -- back when she had a long blonde ponytail and often wore a flower in her hair. Our friendship continued throughout high school, summer school in Monterrey, Mexico, various beach weeks, and on to college -- at one point we shared an apartment over a beauty parlor in Gainesville, Florida with two other girls. It was Shelia who drove the getaway car in the sorority tea caper that I wrote about HERE.

In 1963, we both married our long-time sweethearts -- I was a bridesmaid in her wedding and  few months later, she was a bride's matron in mine. Time passed; she and her husband moved away and then came back; John and I did the same. But we always kept in touch by letters.

When John and I made the move to the mountains, Shelia would come to visit in the summer, helping me build little rock walls, climbing the mountain to watch the sunrise, and generally spurring me on to do more in a day that I would normally attempt.  Once, in spite of having a cold, she helped me top a sick neighbor's tobacco plants --- and I taught her how to blow her nose without a handkerchief.

Eventually she and her husband bought a vacation house in our county so over the years, we've been able to visit even more frequently.  And yesterday, Shelia came over in the morning to help me plant my garden -- some basil and parsley, and forty four tomato plants.

As we worked, I thought about what a fine thing friendship is. Shelia and I have rather different political and religious views but long ago we seem to have decided not to discuss them. Instead we enjoy the things we do agree on -- western North Carolina and books and flowers and food and digging in the dirt.   

Nearly sixty years of friendship . . . where does the time go?  

 

May Daze

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ad Hoc Pasta

Oh, joy!  John found some morels deep in the grass under an old pear tree!

So I raided the asparagus bed again for what few spears there were and cut some parsley, oregano, and garlic chives.

Sauteed in butter, with the addition of garlic, a few scallops from the freezer, and some cheese, these garden finds made a very respectable pasta topping. A spring salad of red lettuce (from Justin and Claui's garden) topped with Florida strawberries and a balsalmic vinaigrette was the perfect accompaniment.

 

Testing . . .

 

 

 

 

My Grandmother Said

 

Amaryllis Papillion

Butterfly amaryllis is in bloom  -- unlike the better-known big red amaryllis, these blooms are short-lived. . . but so exotic.

I didn't always appreciate amaryllis -- when I was growing up in Florida, our neighbors had a long row of them planted along the street. They throve and grew untidy, their long stems topped with gaudy red blooms usually toppled under their own weight.

 

 

 Over the years, I've acquired a number of pots of amaryllis -- they're a popular Christmas gift -- and I've gained an appreciation for their stately beauty and the drama of the emerging stem and slowly opening flower.

A good thing I like them -- Mr. Google tells me that the bulbs can continue to produce flowers for up to seventy-five years. . .