JOY ALONG THE WAY: LAMB'S ?, PIGWEED AND GOOSEFOOT SALAD SAYS SPRING

Thomza and I were reminiscing, over the telephone, about spring things. We talked about the old Easter lilies (daffodils) and colorful tulips that came back year after year, unlike so many of the modern bulbs that produce more beautiful flowers but tend to mysteriously disappear in a few years. We spoke of wild red plum trees, Easter hats, dresses and shoes, hot beds where sweet potatoes were planted to produce new plants to set out later. Finally our conversation got around to an old-fashioned mess of greens. We named them over as they came to mind -- wild lettuce, young dandelions, sour docks, poke, lamb's ___? Lamb's what? We both knew there was something else that lamb's ___, but neither of us could think of what it was. We spent some time berating ourselves that we couldn't recall the rest of that word.

We could describe the plant so exactly. It's leaves appeared to have a silvery frost on them. It felt a little grainy. Reflected the sun's rays. We took some comfort in remembering that it was sometimes called pigweed and goosefoot.

When we finally said goodbye, I went on to other things with just a tiny bit of dissatisfaction floating around my thoughts. Not much time elapsed, though, until the telephone rang.

"Lamb's-quarters!" said a voice I recognized as Thomza's. Her dismay had been greater than mine. She had gone directly to the encyclopedia and looked it up.

"How could we have forgotten?" I demanded. She countered with "How do you suppose it got that name?"

"I don't know. Let us work on that."

I'm still working. I surmised it was a plant that lambs like to eat. But that's not a very satisfactory explanation.

I've been on the lookout for lamb's-quarters for a long time. None grow in the hedgerow nor along the banks of Cape LaCroix Creek. That is, the length of it that flows through my territory. Surprisingly, one year I found some growing around the edges of the trash piles where my neighbors and I occasionally set fire to accumulated trash. How did it get there? Why didn't it come back? If I ever find any I think I'll not cook the tasty leaves but just chop them up, mix with some lettuce leaves, dash on some vinegar, salt and oil and serve them to my "children," Steve and Viney, stating that it is a gourmet lamb, pig and goose salad. Of course it won't have the added dressing of memories that will be on mine.

I don't know why I can't get just as excited about picking young dandelion leaves. They're everywhere. One could even have a low arrangement of the yellow blossoms with blue violets mixed in to temper the gold.

Thank you, God, for the bounty of nature. Even the dandelions.

REJOICE!

Jean Bell Mosley is an author and longtime resident of Cape Girardeau.