Pink Tulips and Lemon Bars

Made some honey muffins Saturday and they were not bad. After that blizzard a week ago, I’m feeling an odd joy marveling at how fast the snow is melting. Normally I love all things winter, and I still do, but I can’t think of much that’s fun if you don’t get a break from it. That’s the glory, isn’t it? That the best things don’t go on and on without end; they come and go, and it’s the having been away, the return, the reunion that brings on the goosebumps and the excitement and the thrill.

I’m not good with constants, yet I’m not a huge fan of surprises. If I had to choose between the fields of random abstraction and concrete sequence, you’d find me perched on the fence dividing the two. It’s all about the mix, people. About the balance. About change and change and change. Snow and rain and sun and clouds. Pizza today, beef stroganoff tomorrow, a new recipe for tapas down the road.

Which is why we were all beside ourselves there for a while. Winter is our thing, but gosh if it goes on and on. Blizzards in April aren’t at the top of my list; I’ll take mine in February, and for as long as it takes. In April I’m thinkin’ pink tulips and lemon bars, sundresses and watering cans, ant traps and cucumber sandwiches and iced tea on the porch.

I fall asleep at night to the sound of water dripping. I leave the window open for fresh air in the night, and the sound of water falling and splashing is second only to the frogs singing down in the marsh. They started up a few evenings ago, soon after the big snow and in the middle of the melt. Out of the darkness, one then three then seventeen frogs, and soon there were hundreds, and on they sang as I fell into a deep and restful sleep.

So much ahead, people. Summer nights, and waves. Birds aloft and children playing and walks along the lake. Road trips in the sun, bare feet, pears. But for now, I am here and so are you, and we ought to clear away those oak leaves so the lilies of the valley and tulips can find their way into the light. They’re purple this year, for a change. A shade you don’t see much around here. A shade you’ll recall in coming years, in another springtime, on another day.

Here’s a light and sweet recipe for a coffee break with neighbors. Just enough to fill you up, but not enough to make you full. My favorite kind of snack.

Honey Muffins

2 cups flour
1/2 cup sugar
3 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 large egg
1 cup 2% milk
1/4 cup butter, melted
1/4 cup honey

Preheat oven to 400°. In a large bowl, combine flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. In a smaller bowl, combine egg, milk, butter and honey, and stir into dry ingredients just until moistened. Fill muffin cups about ¾ full. Bake 15-18 minutes or so, and cool down a bit until serving.

Makes a dozen, and they freeze really well!

Comments

  1. gail in northern California
    May 2, 2018

    She has waged a valiant battle against cancer the last two years. About a week after my arrival, her husband is taking “his warrior-wife” to Hawaii to celebrate her successful stem cell transplant. I will house-sit and spoil their dog beyond belief.

  2. gail in northern California
    May 1, 2018

    Always so happy to see a new post from you. I’ll be leaving in a few days to spend some time with my daughter and her husband. I’m thinking those honey muffins might be just the thing for breakfast on the patio with strong coffee and here in California I might even find some melon from Mexico. Thank you, Mrs. Sundberg. I’ll be thinking of you.

    • Mrs. Sundberg
      May 1, 2018

      Travel safely, my friend. I’ll be thinking of you, too.

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