i don’t remember pete seeger or the byrds singing about “a time for ticks,”  and i doubt that ticks made much of an appearance in the book of ecclesiastes, but in minnesota, there is a time to be born, a time to die. a time to plant, a time to reap. a time to laugh, and a time to pull ticks from the dog. this is that season. turn, turn turn.

woodticks

rice creek regional trail, saint paul, minnesota

last wednesday it had felt as if the wine tasting we were planning for saturday night was slowly falling to pieces. the city of minneapolis was being difficult. the gallery was beginning to feel like too fragile a venue. too many people were proposing to show up. there was no way to chill all the wine. but then the winemaker arrived from béziers via new york, and the franglais flowed easily all weekend. we found the perfect spot for jon wipfli’s (@theminnesotaspoon) oyster table. my mom, my daughter, and my best friend stepped in as amateur caterers to replace the professional who couldn’t fit saturday into her schedule. véronique wantz’s gallery was warm and beautiful. and the wines, as we knew in our hearts they would, ended up speaking for themselves. all the disparate elements of the evening coalesced into a convivial and harmonious whole. in celebration, i tasted too much wine with too little food and was festively sick on the way home.

spring specimens: fern, crab apple, balsam, bleeding heart, daylily, hosta

saint paul, minnesota