It's been so grey and wet outside lately that my mind and palate were craving color and freshness. I'm ready for spring to be here for keeps. So for dinner I roasted corn in the husk and got a box of fresh picked strawberries from the farmer's market. I fried up some fish in garlic and olive oil and then we ate. and ate and ate. The strawberries were so sweet. I had already forgotten how they are supposed to taste, full of the early spring sun and fat spring raindrops. They tasted real. Not at all like the red, fibrous impostors from california I've been snubbing for the last 6 months.
Springtime is for berries.
The corn, even though I'm sure it came from some unknown warmer clime at great expense to the environment, was the perfect antidote for the rain. Roasted in their own husks, each ear had tiny, juicy kernels that tasted smoky and sweet. Like a promise of all the hot, lazy summer evenings on the way.
While I was cooking and eating I felt a little guilty. I can't be totally in the moment when I eat lately because I'm longing for a garden. With the warmer weather and the explosion of green outside, and especially surrounded by the growing fields at the bee-yard, my green thumbs are twitching to dig in the dirt and grow living, edible things to nourish myself and my family. Basil, squash, cucumbers, sunflowers... For now, my family is just myself and Mr. Holt, but when I make meals like this I'm always looking forward to a future family where I'll be wiping strawberry juice off little chins and cutting the corn off the cob for little fingers. I want to grow things, and people. I'm so full and so hungry for more.
My green fingers are twitching, but there isn't much I can grow here unless the perfect new place opens up with a garden-friendly policy for renters. I am trying to contain myself to growing humans this season, but it's hard to ignore the call of the dirt!
