Birds and flowers and a taste of spring

There's a considerable risk that you've become weary of looking at sentimental spring pictures on this blog. But there's so much to show and such abundance of perfect weather, carelessly scattered flora and tender new beginnings that I feel utterly helpless to resist the urge to post. It might be the same at your house; I do dearly hope it is. Here are the catbirds, or rather, here's one of the catbirds. They tend to be kind of bossy and since they're bigger than the finches they pretty much control the bird feeders when they arrive. Here, also, is one of the robins I've mentioned lingering past their typical annual flight time. According to the local newspaper (fondly called "The Mullet Wrapper"), it's been such a chilly spring that the Carolinas are too cold to call the robins home. Perhaps that's also why the catbirds are arriving later, and in smaller numbers, than usual. I know the photo's blurry, but I couldn't resist. If you look closely, you can see he's fluttering his wings, almost as though he's doing a spring dance.



Blooming, also somewhat later than usual, are the tiny wild violets I love, and of which Ms. Moon's grandson is such a connoisseur. Ms. Moon has some white ones; I have previously confessed my jealousy. Mine are all this delicate shade of purple. In warmer springs they bloom in the first week of March and are just about gone by now. And finally, you can see the Carolina jessamine, another of nature's town criers announcing the arrival of spring. This stuff curls itself around every kind of tree and bush close enough to the warm spring sun to give it hope. So small are its flowers that from a distance you sometimes just see a palm tree with a strangely yellow crown on its head, or a clump of scrub oaks and palmettos sporting an inexplicable cloud of yellow. When you get close enough, you can see these lovely little flowers. Because of the live oaks and water oaks around our house you often see the jessamine flowers climbing and trailing 50 or 75 feet over your head. Falling, they create spots under the trees that are starred with blossoms, pretty enough to lead a bride up the aisle. This last is something I've been trying to photograph this week, and as soon as I get the right image I'll share it with you.

I hope you have all the fixings for a fine big salad for your supper tonight, and some excellent homemade dressing for it. If you have some sliced almonds or chopped walnuts or pecans, toast them in a skillet or in the oven and toss them on top. Even if it's still too cold to eat supper outside, enjoy the fresh flavors and know that spring is closer than you think. It always is.


Eat Here photo credits: all images thanks to Rodney Christensen

The birds of winter

As I left the office today, I watched a very large bird swirl overhead, lifting higher and higher on the thermal air, in sharp contrast to the brilliant winter-blue sky. His head and tail were white, his body a solid dark color, and his wings hardly flapped at all as he let the air currents carry him ever higher. A bald eagle, at least 5 years old by his coloring. Florida and Alaska have the largest breeding populations, but they're still not a common sight.

Sitting on my back porch fountain, here, is a female summer tanager, having a drink alongside the beautiful pink-flowering trumpet trees I started from Katie's cuttings. Tanagers don't visit the feeders much, as they dwell high in the oak and hickory trees, and we mostly know they're present by the trilling song Mr. Tanager begins in early spring and continues through the summer. That, and we sometimes see the flash of scarlet, high above the range preferred by the cardinals.

And all this is by way of telling you that my yard was filled with hundreds and hundreds of migrating robins yesterday afternoon. This tells me, as surely as anything, that the days will surely grow longer, that the sunsets will be warmer soon, that all the frostbitten flowers will raise their heads again, and that none of this will be long in coming. When my single camellia with its varigated York and Tudor colors has finished blooming, the bank of azaleas will ready itself for a showy statement about the definitive arrival of spring.

Tonight the wind chill is predicted to be about 14 degrees, though it seldom falls to the projected lowest levels here along the banks of our beloved creek, so close to the Tolomato River. But 14 or 24, this is still damned cold by my lights. The reminder of the robins bearing testament to the inexorable approach of spring warms my heart.

Turn on the oven to warm up the rest of you. If you need an excuse, you can make Cream Biscuits. I've adopted this recipe from the Fannie Farmer Baking Book, and it's a recipe she credits to James Beard, one that doubles excellently well as shortcakes if you have fresh fruit for dessert but is also perfect with any soup or stew you might serve in this weather. Who am I kidding? Just make them. Even if you're serving frozen pizza for supper, no one will mind.

Put 2 cups of all-purpose flour, a teaspoon of salt, a tablespoon of baking powder, and about a teaspoon of sugar into a bowl and stir with a fork to lighten. Add about 1 to 1-1/2 cups fresh cream and stir until the dough forms a ball. Turn out onto a floured surface, knead for about a minute and then cut into shapes as you desire; I always cut into diamond shapes. Dip each biscuit into melted better (you'll need about a half cup). Bake at 425 for about 15 minutes.

Let me know what you think.