lupine

lupine
Originally uploaded by norvegal

At long last, I have lupine!

Considered by many old-timey Mainers to be a weed, lupine is one of those gorgeous early summer flowers I've been trying to cultivate for years. I've spread seeds and planted seedlings to no avail. I figured it was Mother Nature's way of telling me to lay off, so I stopped trying a few years ago.

Lo and behold, look what sprouted from beneath where the wood pile was in my driveway last fall! Probably the least hospitable soil on earth, that's where the lupine decided to grow.

I should note that the old-timey Maine farmers (and those who wish to be perceived as old-timey Maine farmers although they moved here from Connecticut 22 years ago after taking early retirement from a lucrative career in investment banking) will call it "goddamned lupine" or, quite simply, "that goddamned weed." They use the word "goddamned" like California surfers use the word "dude," for both good and bad, in nearly every sentence. They say it very slowly, more lyric than malicious or angry, rolling the letters around in their mouths and putting lots of awe into the god part.

And if I do say so myself, it's a goddamned trait I find quite endearing.

Mango bliss

Mango bliss
Originally uploaded by norvegal

One of my favorite things about this time of year - besides the warmth and the lush green of new foliage and the rustling of leaves and the sweet moist smell of the air and the tweet-tweet-tweeting of the birds and the blooming of the lilacs and rugosas and peonies and the return of morning sun to the far corner of my porch... let's see, where was I?

Oh yes, BESIDES all those other things (and in addition to anything else I failed to mention), I positively adore this time of year because it brings the return of the really good mangoes. You know the ones I'm talking about? Not the big red stringy ones that cost a fortune and never really taste like anything, but those slim, oblong, deep yellow ones with an irresistibly sweet, velvety, juicy flesh. Heaven.

Around here they usually appear at Whole Foods in mid-May, and if I'm lucky they stick around until mid-June. Why is this? If they come from a tropical climate, how on earth can they only be available for one month a year?

The ones I covet are called Champagne mangoes. I don't like fruit with a brand name, but I'll make exception for my mangoes. Technically, they're called ataulfo mangoes, but some company seems to have a monopoly on the whole thing. Which may be why they're only available for a month each year.

Anyway, if you see those mangoes and are feeling adventurous, please do give them a try. I usually remove the skin with a vegetable peeler and cut off the flesh in chunks. And then, sleeves rolled up and bent over the sink, I proceed to suck the rest of the fruit off the pit. It doesn't look all that glamorous but oh... what bliss!