Pigs (and other things) in May

 All hail to Queen June and all your sunshiney, schools-out splendor! Forgive me, though. I'm writing this post in May, which is my favorite month. It's like a party with a grab bag of outdoor treats. After April's drizzle, walking about in the fresh Spring air is so fine. I'm faithful to my daily constitution and will walk in June, but I love the cool of May mornings. Sweater weather puts everyone in a good mood; catching up with fellow recovered hibernators, trading news, and swapping stories is fun. We've seen many newcomers because we've lived in our house for 47 years. This year, one little tyke, born in December, draws a crowd with her new teeth, chubby cheeks, and gigglingly winning ways. I like visiting over fences, swapping plants and recipes, gossiping, and realizing things like the kids across the street have started driving. 

Gardening is another thing I love about May. Jim and I have gone through various iterations as gardeners over the years.  At the very least, we plant some rows of arugula and tomatoes. At best,  you'd call our style haphazard. A recent visit to the herb garden at The Virginia State Arboretum inspired us, and this year, we are pinning our hopes on herbs. We have an old, cracked concrete wall, so we planted a row of Rosemary plants in front to see if we can grow a perennial screen to conceal it. We were lucky that our local nursery had a special a few weeks ago, and we're glad for all the rain. So far, the scrawny plants we bought look like they've taken off. While at it, we transplanted some old faithfuls scattered around the yard: parsley, thyme, lemon balm, and oregano. Not surprisingly, the old Scarborough Fair/Canticle started to sneak into our consciousness so we stuck some sage in the ground for the sake of poetry. We also interspersed a few succulents and added some spearmint. It'll be interesting to see what survives. 

I've survived 77 years, exactly. My birthday falls on the 20th of May, and despite the setback of a broken ankle in August, I've healed well. To celebrate, we planned a getaway weekend to eat good food and take hikes. Hike opportunities in Virginia are many.  I would amend the state slogan, Virginia is for Lovers, and add the phrase [lovers] of nature. The Shenandoah National Park is about an hour's drive from where we live, and it offers hikes with waterfalls, wildflowers, dense woods, and panoramic views. Whenever we make the short trip out there, we wonder why we don't do it more often. This time, we hiked both days and vowed to come back soon. 

An unexpected pleasure, really an almost absurd experience, occurred during my birthday dinner. Because it was a special occasion, we chose a 200-year-old inn called L'Auberge Provencal, known for its distinctive kitchen. The waiter suggested we try an appetizer called Pigs on a Clothesline. The pig part, he explained, were thick strips of applewood bacon that the waiter would blowtorch to a delicate crispness in front of us right at the table. That a blowtorch might become part of our dining experience sounded preposterous, and we declined. Virginia is famous for smoked ham, he went on, and the meat in question enjoys that special provenance. In the end, we succumbed to his cajoling and ordered it. 

It's hard to describe the mixed feelings the spectacle evoked; it had a strange, horrifyingly ridiculous draw. 

This Instagram picture gives you a sense of the wild conflagration we enjoyed at our table. I wish I had a video that shows the flaccid meat clothespinned to a line, the flare of the blowtorch, the bubbling of the fat, and the hot, crisp bacon dripping sweet, apple-flavored lard onto our fresh endive salad. Everything is better with bacon, right? 

There was no need for a birthday cake after that treat!

We celebrate my first grandson's 27th birthday, my third granddaughter's 13th birthday at the beginning of May, and my son's 55th a few days after mine. Jim's father would be 103 a few days after that. There is so much and so many to celebrate in May! I'll bow down to you, June, but in May, how can I keep from singing?!

Here's my birthday sonnet that ran over by four lines. 

If time be miles and life a stretch of road

My birthday is a time to contemplate

To give myself some moments to unload

And let the season help me recreate

I gaze upon an azure sky and wait

Redbirds and blue all jockey for my eyes

Their songs recite a musical debate

Sweet respite from the torment of my whys

A chance to be set free from pressing lies

On backroads where I'm lost and gone astray

False routes that force me to comply

This rest stop helps me find a better way

We took a road out past the city lights 

To Shenandoah mountains green and still

The ranges echo majesty and form 

To see them filled my heart with such delight 

The years unfold to offer endless tries

Each birthday holds the promise of surprise.