The Sunday Ranch Report

When we first moved into this house and installed this very small kitty door, Chick could squeeze her way through. When I wheel my bike into the garage when I come home from the store every night, this is how she greets me. With her sad eyes and floating head. I will admit that having a creature be so excited to see me that she's willing to risk getting her head stuck in a kitty door is charming. I will also admit that I'm pretty happy I'm not a dog.

What you see here are Morello cherry blossoms. What I see here is a tart rich red cherry sauce being poured over a crisp cocoa meringue! I don't think I have enough sour cherry trees. I have to figure out what to plant in front of our living room window to replace the hideousness that is currently growing there. I could plant roses, since I can't really get enough of those...but I also am partial to anything that produces fruit. I could plant red currant bushes, or blueberry bushes... or I could even plant Morellos which have a naturally dwarfish growing habit and could be grown as a hedge. Oh the choices....agonizing! Lisa and Mark are trying to convince me to plant some flowering quince. I love flowering quince, but I cannot help having fruit greed. If I can plant something edible, I tend to want the edible. You know, in case Bush F#@%s* everything up so much that we all have to become self sufficient...I'd really love some lemons. But lemons don't do well here without protection in the winter.

Would it be enough to simply cover them outside? Or do they have to be brought inside? I love lemons. If you have lemons you will never have to worry about getting scurvy. I think this is a real advantage. While I don't really spend a lot of time worrying about scurvy, I might if it became too expensive to buy lemons.

This is my Spitzenberg apple tree. Soooo pretty! The apples are amazing. Lucille told me so a long time ago but I had no opportunity to find out for myself until Lisa, me, and the kids went apple tasting at Smith's Berry Barn in Scholls. Oh my! No one could argue that the Spitzenberg was the most brilliant apple there. Not even Max, who loves to argue, just on principle.

You see apple blossoms, but I see future apple tarts, or if I get really brave...a tarte tatin! Apples and pecans in salads. Apples to bite into. Apples for making and canning apple sauce. Maybe a batch of apple butter so I can send my sister a couple of jars. We'll be lucky to get just enough to eat fresh this year. But I always like to look forward to the future. (The one where we are not all annihilated by Scientologists or Fundamentalists.**)

I keep promising myself I am not going to fall for tulips. No way. They are expensive and don't reliably come back. What's the big deal anyway? Then they go and bloom and I just fall hard for them. Just like I fell for classic white calla lilies. It's the simple architectural elegance of their form that draws me to them; that makes me want to cut arm fulls of them to put in my bedroom.

By the way, why did I not plant the Callas that Jeannie dug up for me last year? What's wrong with me that I did not find time to plant them? They were free, they remind me of my old loved neighborhood and the wonderful people in it, and they bloom at the end of winter and make me think of the kind of spare literature in which not a single word or space is wasted. The Calla is a miracle of stream lined beauty.

Incidentally, they do not make me think of brides. Not that there's anything wrong with brides. I love brides. I mean, not personally, since I don't happen to be a lesbian, but brides are great. I just don't think of them when I see white Callas. In fact, I never think of brides at all.

This is the big pile of AMENDMENTS*** that we have to move to the back yard into the beds. You see soil, I see this summer's crop of tomatoes, lettuce, potatoes, cucumbers, carrots, beets (hopefully), beans, and squash. All of it rising out of this brown heap in a wild tangle of abundance.

*Yes yes, I know how unfair it is to blame it all on this one man. Oh yes, I am aware that it is a collection of rather evil people to blame for the current foul political wind, not just one man. And if you are personal friends with Bush and resent my finger pointing? Just pass the word along to him that I am still waiting for him to amaze me with his righteous savvy! I'm still waiting for him to do something wonderful. I promise to change my tune when he does.

**Again, with the not fair! No, there's nothing wrong with Scientologists except my vast lack of respect for their unfortunate current spokes people who are unerringly creepy (Tom Cruise) and spectacularly wasteful (John Travolta with his seven personal jets that he flies just for family and friends and who apparently thinks we should not worry about earth and just find other planets to live on.) (When do I get to vote them off of earth?) I'm open to finding out that fundementalists are way more warm and fuzzy than my dead alcoholic mean Grandma, but so far I'm way more scared of them than my Grandma who once forced this vegetarian child to choke down a breaded pork chop, which took three hours of trying not to vomit to achieve. The fire coming out of their brimstone is just too hot to touch.

***Not to be confused with soil. Because if this was soil, I wouldn't have to mix it with the soil in my yard. This is very important to know before you order it. I am a coward in very surprising ways. I will brave John Travolta's ire (or that of his stalwart fans), I will say mean things about people who could easily have me killed, yet I cannot tell the landscaping company that what they have is not what I need if it requires MIXING IT WITH WHAT I ALREADY HAVE. Watch, our backs will be out in another week of this mixing deal.