So, my ode to National Poetry Month has been a dismal failure. Last year I was so into it, but this year I can't even bring myself to read the poem-a-day emails sent by Knopf, which gives you a poem, poet's bio, biblio and poem analysis in 250 words or less. Nope.
Rather, I've been...living. I've been out walking, hiking or at least reading on the porch-couch until it's too dark to see. We even started a garden! Anyway, being outside has definitely made me feel more alive, so to hell with being behind on the blog posts. I'm sure Mary Oliver would approve, too.
When I saw these exotic looking fiddleferns for sale at the farmer's market, I thought "eee!"
My practical side said beware. The little coiled beasts reminded me quite a lot of my potted fern house plant, the one Belvedere chews on for fiber. A popular phrase "eat this not that" came to mind, so I went for it. I ate this (ferns from the market) not that (ferns from the bookshelf).
I improvised a crunchy stir fry of fiddleheads, shitakke mushrooms and a minced scallion, which reminded me a bit of eating the floor of an old-growth forest, but classier looking (and still surprisingly bawdy.) Summer fare? Bring it.