Cherries and Berries and Strawberry Wine

I know. I know. I don't deserve any of you. I don't deserve to have anyone visit this place because I'm never around.

I'm sorry. I really am. The truth is, this may be my busiest time of year. I'm not complaining, but there were three 11-12 hours days this week. I am learning to relax a bit, and I am trying to make unwinding a priority. I'm Type O blood but I have a Type A approach to work. And I enjoy my job.

That's why we're taking off for a few days in the Door later this month.

The Door is Door County, Wisconsin's rocky arm of land jutting northeast into Lake Michigan. It is both peninsula and island and it is resplendent with cherry orchards and rock outcroppings and pristine villages of white and the aroma of woodsmoke and carpets of ladyslippers and trillium and oh, you must discover it for yourself.

Originally, it was more or less discovered by the French, who have a way of discovering stylish and tasteful things. Pierre-Esprit Radisson called it "a kingdom so delicious" and he wasn't talking about the legendary fish boils and cherry desserts.

For those of us who love the Door, a trip there is a pilgrimage of sorts, anticipated like a trip to Paris. The misty mornings, the sunny afternoons, the chilly nights. The quiet havens and the busy harbors. The plethora of restaurants from gastropub to fine dining to classic supper club. The galleries, tucked away in the woods, or in whitewashed cabins near beaches or docks. The potters, the jewelers, the weavers.

Meanwhile, we're getting ready for our first season as CSA customers. L, the coordinator promises rhubarb and herbs the first week. The gooseberries above are from L's garden, circa 2007.

And we are down to one bottle of wine, a potent bottle of strawberry elixir I fear will put hair on my chest. Must buy wine, or wake up very hirsute.

What are you up to?

Spring Chickens and Signs that Life is Good

Every season has moments of enchantment that occur at when you least expect them.

Last night, I had to present an award at a spring banquet. While I knew I would be in good company, it was Friday and I was tired and I wasn't especially looking forward to a long night in a chair at a dinner table.

Fortunately for me, the dinner took place at an attractive venue with a view of sea grass and bay on one side and gently rolling hills on the other. My chair faced the bay and while I waited for my turn at the podium, I watched a pair of fishing boats trawl the bay in the sunset. The rays of the setting sun fired the boats and I was able to see that the fishermen were dragging nets. Somehow this fired my imagination, too. My body was inside but my spirit was out on the cool bay, feeling the wind in my hair.

When I finally got to the podium, I looked up in the other direction to see a perfect ball-of-orange sun setting in a deep-teal-and-indigo sky. I could barely concentrate on my lines, so brilliant was the sun.

I sat down at my table again. Now the boats were lighted by torches of some sort. I watched them drift out of sight when it grew dark and the event ended. I stepped outside to my car, surrounded by the welcome spring chorus of tree frogs and even loons and made the 11-mile trip into town.

Sometimes these small things make for a magical evening. It has happened time and time again in my life, and it always grounds me and gentles me after a period of stress.

On the way home, I notice more people on bicycles than I have in the past, something I suspect is spurred by the economy. I like that. We are embracing simpler things, out of necessity, perhaps, but perhaps we will carry these new habits forward into better times. A few weeks ago, amidst an April shower, I saw a man on a bike carrying a bouquet of spring flowers. I can only imagine the utter devotion that might inspire an older man to ride a bike to a flower shop or grocery store in the rain. Someone is very much loved, I hope.

We continue to find much to celebrate in this crazy world.

On Sunday I will roast chicken, rubbing it with herbs de Provence and surrounding it with whatever strikes my fancy. Usually it is onions, carrots and new potatoes coat in olive oil. The herb-y aroma will pervade my house.

The weekend. Life is good.

What about you? What signs have you read lately?