Kitchen Home News

The wind has been howling at the windows for three days, and although the sun has done its best to shine in between spring rains its heat cannot compete with the biting cold that the tempests have blown in. I don't mind the last gasps of winter, the final shake of Frau Holle's feather blanket that resulted in rain-snow-hail this past weekend. In my mind and dreams the Wild Hunt is riding a frenzied race across the skies to the peak of the Harz to celebrate winter's end and the coming of summer. I need a fast goat who likes altitude, because I want to go too. We have arrived in the season of lush festivity. And let's face it, in days of old if you made it through the winter without succumbing to disease or starvation there was definitely something to celebrate. Feasting on spring greens and shoots, lighting bonfires to chase off the winter and to cense your livestock, jumping brooms and fires (and jumping each other - it's a very fertile time of year after all), were

There is a world I had forgotten. Beyond snow and ice, frigid temperatures and howling wind. That world has been slowly slipping into this one, and over my winter-ravaged spirit, thawing even the most cold-bitten parts of me. The vernal equinox arrived in the northern hemisphere four weeks ago heralding a bright new season, but the warmth of spring has taken its time settling in. The sun that lights up our valley shares space with fast-moving clouds, cold rain, and blustery winds. The eternal early-spring dance twirls on. Spring rain coaxes out a different perfume from the earth than autumn rain does. The last time my valley was blessed with precipitation that wasn't snow, it was late November and the land had concluded its sickly-sweet dance of dying and rot, putting that haunting season to bed barren and still. The rain returned at the dawn of this month and the earth is rising to meet it, flushing with the sharp medicinal bouquet of greens and yellows. The buds on the trees are