Simple: ham, Swiss, mixed salad greens, mustard.

Out my window in the morning...

Grape hyacinths.

Red Trillium

swiss cheese, avocado, blood orange, and violet flowers on a toasted everything bagel.

Perhaps the best yet.  Of course I'm obviously concerned with how the sandwich looks, so beautiful ingredients are the most likely to make it onto my sandwiches, but I do care about flavor.  I'm not really that much of a foodie.  I'm really flying blind and kind of just stumbling into things, hoping to find something that works.

The flavor of the avocado perfectly complemented the citrus of the blood orange and the tang of the swiss cheese.  The violets have their on distinctive tang, too.  The flowers themselves don't taste so strong, but the stems or leaves have a nice, unique flavor.  I've sort of forgotten how much I like how they taste but nibbling on them as I prepared the sandwich brought back memories.

I started eating violets after reading about them in a Euell Gibbons book my dad had given me.  I spent quite a bit of my childhood wandering through the woods looking for critters and plants, and as I would walk along I picked leaves off the violets and would chew them absentmindedly.  The violets growing in the forest would have long stems and big leaves.  I ate the leaves, but I really liked biting through the stems.  In the center of the stem is an almost rubbery elastic string.  If you pull the leaf until it breaks instead of snipping it free, this stringy bit stretches and usually breaks at a different place that the rest of the stem.  This leaves a little extra hanging either from the nub on the plant or from the stem in your hand.  Sometimes I would pull this out and chew it separately; sometimes I tried to bite so it and the rest of the stem were cut precisely.  Crazy, I know, but such is the mind of an obsessive compulsive adolescent.  And the slightly tangy flavor brings back these wandering meditations and memories of days exploring streams with a dip-net and a gallon bucket.

Today's sandwich was an enthusiastic success.  The look, the taste.  I was wondering if I should put some meat on it, but sitting here typing this I completely full and thankful I hadn't added anything substantial.  I did forget to add the pine nuts that I originally had planned on adding; I wish I hadn't.

The question as always is would you eat this sandwich?  Answer in the comments.

smoked turkey breast, horseradish hummus, red tomatoes, chickweed, and hot & sweet mustard on wheat bread.

This one was a lighter sandwich than the last few that I made.  It was yummy.

More than a few people have asked about chickweed in the comments of other sandwiches I've posted on FB.  It is a pretty little weed that was introduced from Europe.  It grows cheerfully in the winters here, often staying green even under snow.  Our hot summers burn it back.  There are several kinds, but the one in my yard is common chickweed, Stellaria media.  Its flavor is fresh but not very strong.  It tastes green, but without any sharp notes.

Plenty of people consider it a weed, and I suppose it can be, but I like something growing and green during the winter and it is easy to pull up and good to eat, so I don't worry about it in my yard/garden.  If it is somewhere I don't want it, I just make a salad or a sandwich.  :)

The horseradish hummus deserves mention.  When we first saw it at Trader Joe's, I was skeptical.  Ben wanted to try it, so we did.  Then our opinions flip-flopped.  I normally only like horseradish in tiny amounts with raw oysters, but it was perfect in the hummus and I suddenly couldn't get enough of it.  Ben had liked it before but couldn't stand this version.  I do like it just to dip pita in, but I've found it to be a great condiment for sandwiches.

Frittilaria meleagris

This one is the white form instead of the checkered purple kind.  I didn't think I'd like these as much but I'm finding myself more charmed than expected.  I still hope some of the other type bloom soon.

a few firsts...

The first daffodil of the season!  Ok, so it isn't the first daffodil in town, only the first in my yard.  Around town everyone's daffodils are in full swing and looking bright and cheerful, so I've been wondering what mine were waiting on.  I know that I got them in the ground late and that sometimes first year bulbs are a little shyer than those that have been settled in for a while, but when everyone else has them popping out of the ground you start to wonder.

I'm guessing that this little guy might be Narcissus 'Little Gem', but don't quote me on that.  I planted 24 different kinds of Narcissus and mixed them up all over the place. A quick note about terminology: 'Narcissus' is the genus name for the whole bunch of these guys; 'daffodil' is the common name.  You can use either name for any of them, though I've always referred to the ones with deep cups as 'daffodils' and the ones with smaller cups or little multiple blooms as 'Narcissus'.  It doesn't help that some folks refer to some of them as jonquils, but in general I'm gonna call the deep-cupped flowers daffodils and the other guys Narcissus, or use Narcissus to refer to them all in general.

The grape hyacinths (Muscari sp.) are finally showing themselves, too.  I've got nine different varieties of them in the ground, and the first few are starting to bloom now.  I've always liked these guys.  They are tiny and easy to miss.  When I was growing up, they grew all in our fields.  Plowing each spring just seemed to spread them everywhere.

winter aconite (Eranthis cilicica).

Eranthis cilicica

I was beginning to get worried that none of these guys survived.  They are supposed to be one of the earliest bloomers and I planted 50 of them all over the place, but until these two popped out of the ground a couple of days ago I hadn't seen hide nor hair of them.  Here's hoping more decide show their cheerful little faces.

casualty of the storm.

The storms Saturday night battered this trout lily (Erythronium 'Kondo'), breaking its stem and leaving it toppled to the ground.  I only have a very few of these guys planted (five bulbs: one didn't come up, one got decimated by slugs, three thriving), so it normally wouldn't find its way into a vase.  Since the stem was already broken, I grabbed the little guy and put him in the tiny blue Dr. Fisch's Bitters bottle that  lives in the kitchen window over the sink and usually is filled with violets or dandelions.  This bottle, along with its amber colored sibling and a large green one which also live in this window, belonged to my grandmother on my father's side.  I think my grandmother on my mother's side gave me the little felt covered frog sitting beside it.

everyone should plant dwarf irises.

Of all the bulbs that I purchased as part of my post-trip retail therapy, the dwarf irises have been the most enthusiastic. The one in this first picture opened up the first week of February! This is all the more remarkable because none of the bulbs got into the ground until December.

Knowing that I finally had a yard to garden in after so long without one, I spent a significant amount of time everyday looking through the one bulb catalog that I had with me (from John Scheepers, Inc.). After weeks at sea, being frequently pulled out from where it was wedged under the edge of the mattress with whatever novel I was reading at the time to be furtively thumbed through as I imagined the fantasy garden I would plant when I got home, its tattered state is more what you would expect a 12 year-old's secret porno mag to look like than a bulb catalog. But I suppose for people who get excited about gardening, bulb and seed catalogs are porn: visual aids to stimulate fantasies and feed our imagination until we can act upon the desires in real life. When I finally got off the boat, it was already the end of November and most places had sold out of quite a few varieties. I did find one place that still had a great selection and everything was 50% off, so I ended up spending $300 at Brent and Becky's Bulbs. The sad thing is that this represented me cutting back on what I wanted to get.

I went in for bulk thing and stuff that would potentially naturalize. I didn't want to make clean beds and patterns and rows. I wanting things popping up all over the place. And now it is. Ben complains (rightfully so) that I didn't really plan a clear path into the side yard where I planted things most heavily. There is sort of a method to the madness, but at the moment things are only just beginning to show their face. Once they are taller it will be easier to avoid stepping on things, but until then it is hard to guess quite where things will start poking out of the ground. The dwarf irises were the earliest warnings of where not to step.

There had been all kinds of different specific varieties of dwarf iris that I had planned on getting, but in the end I just bought a bag of 100 mixed bulbs. I threw a few in here and there with other bulbs until they were in every slightly sunny corner of the yard. Because they are so small, you had to look out for them and enjoying their scent meant getting down on all fours and putting you face almost to the ground (the tiny yellow Iris danfordiae had the most intoxicating scent). They didn't all explode at once, but instead one would pop up here and then another over there. It wasn't a solid patch of color, but rather little gems tucked here and there. You could usually only see a few at a time in any particular spot, but one day I walked around and counted at least 25 all blooming at once in their various corners of the yard.

I totally recommend tucking a few of these into any garden.

After the jump you can see a sampling of the variety of them. The picture at the top is the most recent, still in bloom as I type, and they go backward in time as you go down...

I know they are supposed to be considered weeds...

... but I love dandelions.

Up and coming: Fritillaria meleagris

I'm excited about all the bulbs I've planted, but somehow the guinea-hen flower might strike me as the most whimsical and enchanting. I've certainly seen plenty of pictures of them, but I'm not sure that I've ever seen them in person until now. Well, almost: mine have yet to open, as you can see from the picture. When fully opened, their flowers hang like a bell and are either checkered a purplish brown or are a creamy white. I planted them in various spots around the garden. This was partly an attempt to get them naturalized in different places and partly to protect more delicious bulbs like tulips with their less savory scent. A clump of them right outside the living room window seem to have a head start on everyone else.

I ordered all my bulbs this year from
Brent and Becky's Bulbs and I highly recommend them.