It’s that time of year again. Wet, muddy messy farm. Old flimsy carrots and the bottom of the parsnip bin. Mashed potatoes–AGAIN. We’re all getting tired of the winter, and it is no different for us here in the Pacific Northwest–people are complaining, for good reason. But there is hope in the greenhouse. The onion and tomato starts, yes, but I’m talking about something even better. Look down. The beautiful mass of green below our feet comprising of an amazing blend of mustards, asian greens, lettuces, cress, chicories, weeds and herbs to make one heck of a salad mix. The lifeblood of spring. Just like a dramatic dip in blood sugar, we begin to crash and burn with the lack of fresh food in March. Especially after our sprouting broccoli all died. Slowly but surely, all winter, the greens have been popping up underneath floating row cover, and now they are flourishing. Salad for breakfast with a poached egg on top. Salad for lunch surrounding a sausage on a heaping plate. Salad for dinner with chicken soup. It is time! So rejoice, and fear not. Spring is around the corner, even if we still haven’t planted potatoes, and even tilled the ground where they will live this year. It will come soon, so says the salad, and the glimmer of sunlight on my desk this morning.
But don’t forget, salad season also mean TAX SEASON! Better get on that…