Lilies of the Valley in a Mason Jar

There was a time when I liked elegant vases of cut glass or Swedish crystal.

That was before I inherited vases and planters from my mother and grandmother and had little of my own, and little money to spend on such frivolous items.

So I never bought flowers for myself, and because I lived in a downtown apartment, had no garden. From time to time, I would crave a glimpse of the countryside and that was when I would flee the city.

Now I live in a small town and have a garden of my own, with enough flowers for picking.

And I prefer Mason jars.

Even before they became trendy, they appealed to me: An artless look, much like worn blue jeans. Comfortable and casual, to match the person I've become over the years.

It is lily-of-the-valley time in my garden and they are there for the picking and the wonderfully delicate and sweet aroma they bring to my house. I try to pick every one I find, because while the leaves remain green throughout the summer, the blossoms fade and turn to brown. They are a reminder to live every day to the fullest.

Little things - lilies of the valley and Mason jars - make life rich on a spring weekend.

The Age of Asparagus

I love asparagus but lack the patience to grow it in my garden.

It is the most elegant of vegetables, long and slender and delicately colored in shades of pale green and a pinky-lavender.

Asparagus is, in my opinion, best when roasted and served with sautéed shallots and slivered almonds.

It was not a staple in the meat-and-potatoes home I grew up in, and my mother did not eat it until I introduced it to her, canned, sometime in my late years of high school or early years of college.

Then, there was no stopping her, and she became a devotee, buying it fresh and walking down to the farm market with her string bag. She knew a good thing when she found it. I wonder, though, why it was never on my grandmother's table, because she loved any sort of fresh produce. We all cherish the memory of her sitting on her back steps on a summer morning, snapping off the ends of green beans or shelling peas.

I adore asparagus with ham, or inside a thin roll of puff pastry with some cheese, perhaps gruyere. In a tart, or in soup.

Because I love soup, I save the bottoms of the asparagus I eat, and use them to flavor. Only the pinkish-white ends, usually a bit tough and fibrous, end up in the compost bin. These bottom tips are actually very tasty and some chefs recommend using them in the soup. That just requires a bit more time and some extra straining.

On rare occasions, a local grocery store will offer white asparagus. It is milder and more tender than its more common green counterpart, and I try to buy it when I see it. It is white because it it grown in darkness, as this article points out. It is a bit pricey, but it's certainly worth at least one try.