grand

I woke up this morning to the sound of birds singing outside our open window.
In March.
Mr. D's ballplayers are practicing outside on a dry field.
In March.
I've got half of my spring cleaning list knocked off.
In March.
Forsythia is in full bloom along with the crocuses.
In March.
I'm wearing shorts, going barefoot and making lemonade.
In March.

Spill it, reader. What are you doing this March?

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midweek

and I made Team Testosterone take baths last night! Their bare feet were dirty and gritty from playing outside. What an amazing spring! Our neighbors came back for a little visit, balls got bounced and tossed, the ATV buzzed around the trails, I even dragged a rake across a chunk of our yard. It's mid-March!

In honor of 3-14 (Pi day) I made a S'more Pie to great acclaim. The rest of my campaign signs found homes. I cleaned the oven, scrubbed out the wastebaskets, hung out more bedding. Strolling around the yard I see blooming crocus, tips of daffodils and the cupped leaves of tulips. Robins are racing to build nests and the red-winged blackbirds are busy glaring at us.

And there's even more of this grand weather in the forecast. I kept a window cracked to hear the birds this morning. No more snowpants. No more snow shovels. Baseball season begins next week and I've got almost half of my spring cleaning list crossed off. I'm wearing short sleeves and no socks--bare feet since Sunday!

March Madness indeed.

Spill it, reader. Has spring sprung in your neck of the woods?

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blooms

Of course the forsythia I cut for Thursday's Bumble Book Club meeting looked gorgeous two days later. Even so, I'm glad I did it because it sure brightens up the place. You can cut all kinds of spring-blooming willows or forsythia this time of year and bring them inside. The warmth will force early blooms on bulbs, too, if one were so inclined to dig into the frozen turf for daffodil or tulips. I'll stick with forsythia branches because I only have to walk a few feet out my front door to access them.

In other signs of spring, I've almost got my seed order ready to place. This winter I got one of those small shelf-style greenhouses to put on our front porch. Armed with starter soil, cardboard egg cartons, last year's seed harvest and the seeds I'll order, I have big BIG ambition for an early start on the season.

Since I'll have a wattle under construction, I plan to expand into the space beside the raised beds. I asked my guy (the landscaper who sells me wood chips) if it's too early to deliver mulch. He laughed and told me it would be a couple months yet. Until it's time, I'll doodle away on graph paper, designing the plan for the new space.

Carrots, lupines, peppers, hydrangeas, onions, zinnias, blackberries, cranesbill, tomatoes, astilbe, beans, lilies of the valley, squash ... that's what's on my mind lately. Spill it, reader. What's on yours?

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thankful

So thankful for the weather--a little breeze, a bit sticky, 70's and sunny. I'd take that every day of the year if I could. And my gardens! I swear, you can stand beside them and watch things grow by the hour--tulips, phlox, coral bells and daffodils are blooming. Lilacs are coming soon. This is my absolute favorite time of the year--which is why I'm not sitting at my laptop much because I'm busy digging in the dirt and gazing at all the life bursting in my yard.

Birds and bees, the sneaky rabbit who hops across my front porch. The sharp cry of the blackbird, the soft call of doves, the friendly chirp of robins and the flash of yellow finches in the birch trees.

Dads who coach, dads who step in to help when other dads can't make it. Last night I was so relieved to have dads cover for Mr. D during the boys' coach pitch game. I've got no business out on the diamond, give me a spot in the dugout with the book and the batting order--I can handle that job!

Watching Mr. T at lunch, chattering away with his new classmates at his new school. His grades are solid, his confidence is up, his overall attitude much more positive. We made the right choice sending him to the parochial school.

Dan, our handyman, who will soon have a kennel for Jax outside, and a BIG surprise for our boys! (In addition to fixing closet doors and balancing ceiling fans.)

Almost 12 hours of daylight--bliss!

Fresh paint. (I'll have a REVEAL next week--been super busy with paint.)

Learning escrimas in karate class and finding them easy.

Lemon cake.

Spill it, reader. What's making your thankful list today?

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the secret ingredient

If you haven't visited The Treat Girl's blog, you must--she gives the best recipes with tips and hints for making them turn out perfect. Today her post reminded me of my most hard-won recipes. You see, my mother-in-law is Mr. D's favorite cook in the whole wide world. He loves her lasagna, potato salad, egg bake and loose meat (yes, they're from Iowa) sandwiches. There's no competing with his adoration, I had to learn how to play the game.

Happily, there's no direct competition between my MIL and I, she lives in Iowa, we're in Wisconsin, we see each other a few times a year, but if she lived closer, she and Mr. D would be like Marie and Raymond Barone--he's her favorite and she dotes on him. Distance keeps us fond of each other, I enjoy her company and appreciate that she lives too far away to meddle in our lives. We have a unique relationship as she lives within 5 minutes of 2 of her other kids and 40 minutes from the other--we're a vacation, a treat compared to the family she sees every week of her life.

For years Mr. D would eat his mom's cooking and say to me, "You need to learn how to make this!" And I'd ask for the recipe and she'd "forget" to give it. I don't particularly enjoy cooking, so I didn't push the issue, figuring I could mold Mr. D's taste buds to appreciate my efforts with what I liked to make.

In turn, I shared my recipes liberally with my MIL, and I know she enjoys making them and passing them along, but she simply refused to share her standards with me. Mr. D and I first thought she was being selfish, wanting to be the Only One making his favorite foods. He'd ask me if I got the recipe from her, I'd tell him no, she wouldn't share because we got busy or interrupted, he'd get on the phone and demand the recipe and she'd promise to send it along or provide an excuse. "I don't have it written down" she'd say. Or, "I just put in a pinch of this and some of that" as though potato salad were a magical spell. Once she came to visit and made potato salad for us while I stood by watching in the kitchen. She didn't use any measuring tools so I couldn't get a decent read on how much of anything she added.

We concluded her refusal to pass along recipes was subliminal so no one else could make them.

I said as much to her once, suggesting "it would be such a shame for our sons not to enjoy their Grandma's famous cooking in years to come. If you'd teach me, we could keep your legacy alive long after you're gone. We need to write these recipes down!" Still, it took years for her to hand over any semblance of a hint of how to make her lasagna or potato salad.

But she did. She handed over (begrudgingly, though she'd never admit it) her recipe for lasagna. I made it--following her instructions to the letter, even though I suspected 4 tablespoons of salt seemed excessive. We ate it and swallowed quarts of water for days afterward. I noted on the recipe "HALF the salt" and made it again. Still too salty. I scratched out my note and wrote "1 TBS SALT" and it came out just right. Did she give me the wrong recipe on purpose? I don't think so, but it still seemed suspicious. Though she does like her food salty... she's the only person I know who salts pizza before eating it...

Two years later we managed to pry her potato salad recipe out of her clenched fingertips. I made it at home again following the recipe to the letter and guess what? TOO DRY. I wrote in the margin, "DOUBLE the dressing" and tried to make it again. You can imagine it turned out just right after modifications.

Now we know we can eventually get Mr. D's old family favorites out of my MIL's Super Secret Files with persistence and persuasion. We'll get a version sabotaged so that she still remains the Only One who can make Mr. D happy--to her mind, that is. It's no surprise to make her recipe only to fail--I know I have to look for the trap and finesse my way around it--and write down what I fixed so that someday MY daughters-in-law can get the right recipe from my clenched fingertips. And I'll tell them about my MIL and how proud she was of making these things to please her son--and I'll laugh as I tell them how we extracted the recipes from her with finesse that could rival CIA interrogators.

Spill it, reader. Does your family have secret recipes? Or do you share fair and square?

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of daffodils and dirt piles

My name is Green Girl and I have a daffodil addiction. I add a new variety each year, about 450 daffodils bloom here in the springtime. My fantasy is to have 30 varieties, thousands of yellow flowers in the spring, and the way these bulbs naturalize, it's not too far-fetched a fantasy. I dug up a few patches last fall that hadn't bloomed and discovered they'd multiplied exponentially, so I divided and moved things around, adding 75 bulbs to new spots. This fall I'll purchase another new variety (or two) and divide some more crowded clusters. Behold! Daffodilpaloza!
The peach insides of these creamy flowers are unique,

but I especially like the dark yellow insides of these jonquils. So cheerful.

Standard all-yellow and pale yellow,

delicate rims of dark yellow in the center,

and peach-colored with double-ruffled inside petals. Definitely the most unusual and showiest.

The sustained warmth made my front bed explode overnight. I swear I could have sat on the porch and watched them grow, the hostas burst through the soil, the tulips budded from scrawny green stems.

A little forsythia brightens up the beds, too.

Formerly this bed was my original vegetable garden when we built. Then it became a strawberry patch when the berries overtook things. Then I got a bright idea to amend the soil with dirt from the creek bed, which brought in enough stinging nettle to burn the Taliban into submission. I've since moved all the strawberries out to their own spot in the potager and will plant this with vegetables once again--peas, green beans, tomatoes and peppers.

This mess is the potager--memorize it well, friends. When you see it again it will be greatly altered in appearance.

Signs of industry are everywhere this time of year.

The dirt calls to me. Can I help myself? I dig dirt.

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brought to you by the letter C

Charming--Cardigans on little girls dressed in their Easter best.
Cunning--a jar of fresh-Cut daffodils on the table
Confounding--the whole Couponing Craze--I don't get it, it seems wasteful and unnecessary, not thrifty and wise.
Complicated--working between two laptop Computers--one has speed and the latest version of Word, but the mouse is a piece of crap; one is slow and out of date but comfortable to use and simple to navigate.
Cute--surprisingly, Hop (ably supported by James Marsden's smile).
Complete--a movie script, May's karate school newsletter, my faith in Christ, prepping for the painter
Color--soon to Cover the last of our white walls
Craving--furniture for the patio, a trellis for a flower garden and those ruffled tank tops all the stylish gals seem to be wearing these days.
Cantankerous--Mr. G.
Considering--a spot in the front yard for Jax's kennel, baking a cake for supper tonight and replacing the porch swing.

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mud season has begun and I'm not wearing socks

Melting here, mud season is in full swing and my floors are gritty all the time. The sump pump stops running for a few minutes at a time before flushing out another 50 gallons of water. Our fields have become puddles of standing water, Mallards float in the ditches and cranes wade through the flooded prairies. I encase my feet and calves with my Wellingtons to go anywhere these days, but the boys do not so the laundry room always smells like wet, funky feet.


Change is afoot--and I'm shifting into a new position that still allows me to go barefoot. This has been in the works for months, but now I can officially announce that I'm back in the workforce again--as Mr. O's "Girl Friday" (yes, that's my formal title) at the karate school. My new duties will include teaching (barefoot) and working on marketing (barefoot), PR (barefoot), website management (barefoot), the monthly newsletter (barefoot) and writing the course curriculum for the dojo (barefoot). That's some evolution, eh?

Black belt, bare feet with time to exercise my green thumb.

I never would've predicted landing in this spot at this point in life thus attired. Spill it, reader. What do you wear to work?

Cheri brought THIS to my attention--how appropriate and how humbling. I confess, it's my luxury to go barefoot, but Toms One for One reminds me that not everyone enjoys the same lifestyle.

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some of us require very little encouragment

Forty-two degrees is plenty warm for line drying laundry,


or growing through layers of mulch.


Robins and crocuses are never wrong.
You can guess how good that laundry smelled when I folded it last night.

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ch-ch-ch-changes

It's funny how I pause each night and each morning to grab Mr. T's pills--and then realize that he doesn't need them any more. Old habits die hard--I wonder how long before I accept the new normal. Two other happy discoveries since he's been off his medication and seizure-free: his tremors have subsided, improving his penmanship (which, frankly, can always use help) and he's sleeping a little less. He used to sleep a hard 11 hours a night--a bit much for a healthy 11-year-old boy. No drugs, better penmanship, better sleep. So. Darn. Nice.

The robins are here! Since Wisconsin weather is notorious for jerking people around I distrust most "signs of spring," but I'm confident in robins and crocuses. (Yes, I'll be tromping around in the yard today checking for crocuses.)

I've mentioned that I contributed to a little book about writing, specifically about finding a writing network and how to navigate publishing options in the Age of the Internet. You can get a copy of Writing in a Changing World at amazon.com now--if you're a writer or know someone who writes, it's a pretty useful book.


Six days until baseball starts and Mr. D becomes a scarce commodity around here. Mr. B had his first tournament team practice last week, Mr. T's wrestling season wraps up on Saturday and we're in the throes of Boy Scout Merit badges (2 of which I'm leading). I've cleaned out the kitchen cupboards and ordered my garden seeds. We're shedding our mittens and heavy coats and tracking in the mud. Spring brings flux to every part of our lives. Changes. I'm ready for them.

Spill it, reader. What's changing for you?

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cheerful thoughts on fat Tuesday

I saw this sign online and it made me laugh. What made me laugh more was hearing Team Testosterone race to the car this weekend: Mr. G "I call shotgun!" Mr. B "I call shotgun infinity!" Mr. D "Do you guys even know what shotgun means?"

While trying to enjoy the remaining weeks of winter (read: Screw you, Winter Storm Ethan), I'm focusing on the chickadees at our birdfeeders. They're pretty cute. And I like how I can see the structure of a tree so clearly when the leaves aren't there.

So, there's that.

And I've started lopping off forsythia branches and bringing them inside to force them into blooming bright yellow flowers for me. (Note to self: plant more forsythia.)

And this! Polyester skirts and funky sweaters! Love! Love! Love!

Mr. D is in baseball mode. He's kind of always in some level of baseball mode, but the season begins on the 21st. You can imagine the conversations here. He has also brought home the first half of the 40 boxes of Girl Scout cookies he ordered this year. And then I made cookies for Mr. T's Mardi Gras carnival at school today--which seemed incredibly superfluous under the circumstances.

I dreamed about our pool last night--in my dream our pool actually connected to a canal that surrounded our entire house. At the corner of the front porch (where the gutter needs repairing) it had become very green with algae. Halle Berry and I discussed what I should do and then I switched on a pump to clean it up. This is exactly why I never put much stock into dreams. As if Halle knows the first thing about water chemistry. Pfft.

Seed catalogs. I'm still finalizing my plans before I order. One nice thing about March is that June and July are still full of promise and hope.

Today I'm gathering paint swatches and making a drop at the thrift shop.

Spill it, reader. What's keeping your spirits up on Fat Tuesday?

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restless

Spring is stirring inside my veins even though it's still below freezing outside. Spending 4 days cooped up, in bed, doing little but watching TV and movies and reading has made me irritable and cranky. I want to speed ahead at mach 10, but I'm still only functioning at 65%.

I went on a bit of a tear upstairs and made the boys clean their rooms yesterday. We found their water bottles (wondered where they'd all disappeared to!), garbage, about 12 unexplained loose screws on Mr. G's carpet and scads of questionable laundry. (Dirty or clean? No one seemed to know...it was piled beneath beds.) Because Team Testosterone resides on the second floor, I don't often insist on full-bore cleaning sprees, but I'm feeling closed in and all their crap on the floor tipped the scales.

That, and the table set up in the living room with all the tax stuff strewn across it. And the army tank Mr. B made out of an old stove box sitting at the foot of the stairs. And the random piles of school projects, reading materials and game pieces and toys. Not terribly fung or shui and begging to be flung away. I'm craving blank space. Clean lines.

Normally I'd begin working down my spring cleaning list this time of year. It's still too cold out and there's too much snow. I need to open windows and let in fresh air and sunshine, but weather does not permit me. I need to pile the piles into one giant heap and send it out the door, but Team Testosterone lives here, too.

To top off my crabbiness, I've noticed the state of my walls. We built our house about 9 years ago and the walls look dingy. They're battle-scarred by the boys, stained with ink and what looks like boogers in a few spots. I don't relish the idea of undertaking Major Painting Projects, but it's definitely time to do it in the main part of my house.

And you know how this goes--you give a Green Girl fresh-painted walls and she'll want a new couch to go with them. And a new coffee table, new chairs, and maybe even a new rug.

Spring would be less expensive if it'd just thaw out so I could go outdoors and muck around in the mud.

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no fooling

* I got paid for this poem posted here at Strong Verse. Guess that makes me a poet.

* I ran some errands this morning with Mr. G who sat in the back seat saying things like, "Mom! You have a building on your head! April Fool's Day!" and "Mom! You have a bug on your head! April Fool's Day!"

* Mr. D and I have embarked on a Major Home Improvement Project. Stay tuned.

* We're wearing shorts today! Shorts!

* Staying in the running for Mom of the Year, I just found out 2 days ago that my children have a longer spring break than I'd originally thought. Hm. Guess we'll have to change our plans a little.

* I learned all of the sword form last night. I tell you, I may look fierce after I practice all weekend.

* Mr. D's baseball team has their first game tonight.

* Now I'm off to take the storm doors down and put in the screens. I don't care if Mother Nature is fooling with us, we left windows open last night and by golly, I'm sweating a little right now! Who's ready for that sweet slap of a screen door and a tall glass of iced tea?

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fortune or fate, either way, life can be fabulous

Friday night I bowled with my yet-to-be-named ball (my average is climbing) and afterwards someone passed me the dice cup for the Shake of the Day. Back in my bartending days I was unbeatable at craps. But one's luck at dice can turn cold in the blink of an eye. I shrugged, shook and tipped the dice onto the bar, presuming my dollar would sweeten the pot for the bar's next lucky winner. All snake eyes looked back at me. (That's "ones" to those of you unschooled in bar dice.) Ha! I laughed. What are the odds of that happening in just one shake. What's the number anyway?

Ones.

And just like that, with a single roll of the dice, I walked out a winner.

Depending on which side of the bed you lay on last night, you went to sleep a winner or a loser, too. I stifled my glee beneath my pillow while Mr. D kept his annoyance to himself. We're moderate as a general rule, but my husband's a capitalist in favor of small government. The report interrupting Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution resulted in mild comments back and forth. On a Sunday night, neither of us has the stomach for political debate.

Today is Monday, opening day for the baseball season. To celebrate this official first day of spring at our house, I always take down this painting above our fireplace


and replace it with this


Robins, crocuses, the first day of baseball practice. Spring is here.

And it's time for me to give away something FABULOUS to one lucky blogger. So far I've been promoting my bloggy friends' books--I'd say bloggy friends who write, but that's woefully redundant. I'm mixing it up by including some Craftacular Bloggy Friends and this month it's Saucy who writes at Bloggedy Blog Blog. If you haven't checked her out yet, you're missing out in a big way. Saucy keeps Mad Money in her bra (just in case!), takes amazing photographs, bakes cupcakes (I followed her Red Velvet Elvis recipe to great acclaim) and has boundless creativity when it comes to making beautiful things. Whether she's flipping a house or outfitting the Cheerios, her life is full of hustle, bustle and love. Her skills in decorating, fashion, and party-throwing are legendary. Seriously. And she writes a wicked Oscar dress recap every year.

Two years ago Saucy sent me the cutest pair of ipod earrings--I always get complements when I wear them. Saucy is generously including a pair of these clever little earrings with the gift I'm giving away to my lucky bloggy winner this month.

(that's Saucy's hand, my nails never look that lovely)

Are you ready to see this month's Grand Gesture?

(drumroll)

This necklace handmade by Saucy is actually called "Grand Gesture." Isn't it gorgeous? I want to enter my own contest so I can win it! Let's take a closer look...

Leave a comment between now and Saturday for a chance to win this month's Fabulous. Spill it, reader, what Grand Gesture welcomes spring in your house?

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