The tang of rhubarb. Mmm. Makes my mouth water. A grandma lady down the road called and said the rhubarb was ready anytime I could come pick some.
Yes, indeed, I'll be over soon, I said.
She gave all I could carry, with the promise that I could come back for a second harvest in about a week.
I washed and chopped the stalks of pink and green and quickly decided that those were two perfect colors jumbled together in that chopped up heap. It smelled tangy-tart. It meant spring. It meant rhubarb coffee cake, rhubarb muffins, and a strawberry-rhubarb pie, which is slated for the celebration of the first night spent in our new little house. It's coming right up, that first night.
We can't wait!
And? As of last evening, I get to figure out where I'll be planting some raspberry bushes given to me by another grandma lady who lives down a different road.
Oh, these grandmas and their thoughtful gifts!