what? I can’t hear you…did you say uncle?

box elder catkins. i’m sorry you didn’t catch that? yes, catkins. it’s catkin season, and i love catkins. these are catkins. box elder catkins. i’m sorry you didn’t catch that? yes catkins. it’s catkin season, and i love catkins. these are catkins. box elder catkins. i’m sorry . . .

box elder catkins

more catkin love

i just spent a particularly snowy minnesota winter shoveling sidewalks, fishtailing on black ice, and sucking water from my basement floor with a shop-vac. it is now catkin season, and you are going to get catkins. you can say “when,” but i will ignore you. don’t think i won’t.

quaking aspen (poplar) catkins

weeping

weeping willow was given the latin name Salix babylonica because linnaeus made a mistake, and assumed that the species came from the banks of the rivers of babylon. in fact those trees were probably poplars. all i know about weeping willows is that they keep my bees healthy by offering the first pollen of the year. thank you, weeping willow, in a very indirect way, for our honey next fall.

weeping willow catkins

happy may day

thank you for all the nice comments about steve’s recent james beard award…we both feel your support deeply.

the magnolia tree from which i snipped a branch two weeks ago to force some early indoor blossoms is now in full bloom. what a sight a magnolia in bloom can be. i only started noticing magnolias in minneapolis within the last decade, which means there may not have been cold hardy hybrids until then. whoever did the hard work to make a zone 4 hardy magnolia, i want to thank you for your ingenuity and commitment to spring beauty. i appreciate you annually, and passionately.

magnolia blossom

sjrh wins jbfa in nyc

just back from a weekend in new york city where i had the great and moving pleasure of watching my husband win the most prestigious award in food journalism–the james beard mfk fisher distinguished writing award. he has worked so hard at his writing, and in a way has spent his whole life practicing to be a writer–always using language carefully, and precisely, and sometimes movingly, and often comically. the day after the ceremony,  he and i spent an aimless saturday walking through an enchanted new york city, from the west village through greenwich to soho and back. we drifted from one cappuccino to another, from coffee shop to coffee shop to hotel bar, on our way to a late dinner at balthazar, where they seated us in a corner booth, and the chef somehow knew who steve was, and sent out special little gifts all night long, and the whole city was illuminated by the glow of steve’s joy.

p.s. i’ve said it before but i want to say it again…i love catkin season. it is so short and so fleeting, and almost no one really notices it, and yet it’s like an arboreal mardi gras for about one week.

red oak catkins