This time of year, hope springs eternal - we hope the sun sticks around, the blossoms last and neither the taxman nor cold snaps hit us too hard.
Everyone from condo gardeners to get-down-dirty farmers have at least a bit of dirt under their fingernails and some seeds in, and perennials are already up. The first green tips of asparagus are poking through garden soil while curled fiddleheads are unfurling in sweet-smelling woodlands.
My parsley got lucky this winter and made it, plus it self-seeded about a hundred offspring. And my rosemary, oregano, tarragon and marjoram all look ready for picking.
We grabbed some fresh bay leaves the other day, pot and plant protected over winter and, mmm, the scent was delicious. I tossed some sprouting onions into the ground in a protected corner in February to see what the heck would happen and, voila, we've got green onion-like shoots to snip off.
Garlic chives are up, and so is the spearmint. What more could a gal ask for, except a few fresh leaves of early lettuce.
Don't get me wrong - I'm no gardener. But I have stumbled upon a few varieties of plants that thrive in pots, which I move around with me as I move, then move again, in situ, as weather and plant needs dictate - inside, outside, round the corner where there's more light, less frost, whatever.
This is my answer to the challenges of real gardening, which is good, for I have no patience for fussing but I do enjoy the pleasure of snapping off a bay leaf I've grown or a handful of fresh mint and feeling I have at least that small connection to the Earth and all the eons of humans who made and still make out fine without a single grocery store.
If you can't even be bothered with a few pots, one easy green thing to grow is sprouts.
There was a time in the '70s when every righteous hippie kitchen in Kitsilano or Alta Lake had a big glass jar mouldering on the counter with a piece of damp cheesecloth over the mouth. Inside would be seeds, usually alfalfa, at one stage or another of sprouting into something good.
Sprouts are still cool. To grow some, you can buy stacking plastic trays or special jars with porous plastic lids, but your basic jar with a piece of cheesecloth works just as fine.
You can use a gallon-sized jar, but a half-gallon one takes up less space and you'll make fresh sprouts more often. Heck, you can use any size jar, just adjust quantities accordingly. Some hippie kitchens had more than one jar on the go simultaneously, each filled with sprouts at different stages like farmers seeding at different times for a steady return.
Growing your own sprouts in the '70s was part of the times (peace, man), like wearing Earth shoes or having a roach clip tied with feathers and beads dangling from your rearview mirror. Today, seeds are harder to find but most health/whole food stores have them. Check out bulk bins, too.
Doubled cheesecloth folded in a square and held in place over the mouth of the jar with a rubber band works fine, as does fabric mesh from a hardware store.
In a big (half-gallon) jar use about a quarter cup of seeds, and I'm talking alfalfa here, but the options are many. Using the cheesecloth over the mouth of the jar as a sieve, I rinse them before soaking them.
After dumping out the rinse water, fill the jar about half full with cool water. Let the seeds soak overnight in a cool, dark spot, or cover the jar with a towel. Next morning, dump out the water and rinse the seeds again a couple of times.
Keep your seedling sprouts in a cool, dark spot and keep rinsing them twice a day, some say more often, depending on how conscientious a kitchen gardener you want to be. However often you do it, make sure you drain them well - soggy sprouts turn gross fast. And don't let them dry out - these are little live plants!
Once you see long stems and/or the wee sprouts colonize about half the jar, which takes about three-five days, expose them to some indirect sunlight to green them up. You'll quickly learn how green you like them, as that alters their flavour.
Rinse and drain them one last time before sticking them in the fridge, right in the jar, to keep them fresh and stop the growing process.
You can sprout all kinds of things: beans, which include alfalfa, believe it or not, and mung beans, the start of bean sprouts most of us know in Chinese food; grain, like wheat and corn; seeds from the radish family, including broccoli; or those from the onion family - onions and chives.
If you really get into sprouting seeds, don't plunge blindly ahead because some sprouts, such as those from soy, kidney and lima beans, can be toxic due to the protease inhibitors they contain in the raw.
But never mind that. Food scientist Harold McGee warns us that even alfalfa sprouts contain a toxic amino acid called canavanine, which interferes with several cell functions and has been linked to lupus. However, I wouldn't get too hung up, as you'd only get a dose large enough to worry about if you eat enough alfalfa sprouts to fill your sock drawer every day.
Besides, all kinds of plants we eat contain toxins that can potentially harm us, many of them associated with spring. Must be some kind of deep symbolism in that, but I can't think of what.
Spinach, kale and rhubarb all contain oxalates that can combine with calcium in our kidneys to create kidney stones. Fiddleheads, especially from bracken ferns, are known to contain toxins that cause blood disorders, so practise the old moderation rule here, too, like you do with all your favourite toxins.
And keep your head up for more signs of hope springing eternal. In fact, why not rinse out an old jar and get some sprouts going in time for Earth Day, April 22.
Can you believe it's the 40 th anniversary for Earth Day this year? What were we all thinking back then, in our Birkenstocks and Earth shoes and VW busses with the Plastic Ono Band blaring Give Peace a Chance?
And what have we done?
Glenda Bartosh is an award-winning freelance writer who will sprout at least one thing for Earth Day.
