Something different...maybe!

 I have some spring memories.  Things that happened every spring regardless of any other thing happening.  It was the greening of the yard with dandelion digging for the first greens of the year. Now many yards are sprayed!!!  Digging happened way before the dandelion flower buds appeared.  Mom would be out digging to prepare for supper.  The time...during and after the big war.  Yes, it was a long time ago.  I'm wondering when greens appeared in the grocery store during those war years and immediately after..  Maybe never.  It was wartime! Rationing time!  Another spring memory...My dad, digging horseradish roots...grinding them outside escaping the fumes, and then eating horseradish on potatoes, dandelion, meat, and just about anything feeling as if my head was going to blow right to Mars and then going back for more Mars trips.  I can't do the dandelion but I sure can do the horseradish.  Digging and grinding early in the spring means that the horseradish is sweet and kind.  The blow your head off horseradish happens a little later in the season.  Here is horseradish proof. So today you get little green tops emerging from below ground...a little root in the picture and a little yum, yum in the picture.  I must admit that the anticipation is half the fun, recreating an old memory returning to a time that was, living once again a memory.  And I will admit that the events of the past years involving taste have brought about changes in that memory.  I call that a bummer but I can live with that easily.  I still enjoy the process. 

You have the picture...what you don't have is the mud that went with this endeavor.  It was a muddy job but for now, the rain is over with perhaps just a tad coming today.  The little parsleys are increasing in number.  The lettuce is still to come and the dreams of what else will appear are many.  So...it's springtime, horseradish season.  The season of expectations with travels to Mars.  There will be miles traveled in the coming months some fueled with horseradish and many fueled with other gifts.   

In the bud, there is a flower,   In cacoon a hidden promise.  Something God alone can see.  

Family...our first H root came from Paul Cain.