Happy spring! Today, though, is calendar spring. Real spring, warm and sunny and filled with color, hasn’t arrived yet. It will be a while. Today is chilly and cloudy. The early morning was foggy. This is sweatshirt weather, the time between winter and spring.
When I was a kid, spring was my favorite season. The mornings were still chilly and crisp, but the air was different. It had a sweetness. In the bleak gardens in front of the houses on my walk to school shoots starting poking their heads above the ground. I watched them grow taller. I loved when the buds had a tinge of yellow. The trees started to wake up and had the tiniest bits of green at the ends of the branches. My winter coat was put away until the next year. Bundling just meant adding a sweater under my jacket. I played outside longer after school. I reveled in the stirrings of spring.
My yard and deck were cleared yesterday, a spring clean up. The morning songs of birds are getting louder. The dafs are taller and the buds more prominent. I keep hoping for warmer days. I want to ditch that sweatshirt.
The other night for dinner I had tabbouleh and hummus, foods I first ate in Ghana at one of the Lebanese restaurants of which there were many. I hadn’t ever heard of Lebanese foods before that. Every time I was in Accra I usually went to Talou’s, a restaurant near the Peace Corps office. The hummus was served on a flat plate with an edge. It was spread cross the plate. In the middle was sesame oil and on the hummus was a ring of hot pepper. I still love to eat it that way.
I haven’t made anything in a long while. I used to bake. I also used to make foods from all over the world for an annual dinner with friends, foods like Chinese, Indian, Cajun and yes, African. They were all new dishes, the first time I ever made them. I liked the risk. I need to get back to that.



