Land is a being. It is a living organism with cells and roots running throughout it’s body, every part interconnecting with the other parts. Land, also like a body, holds an enormous amount of memories, not necessarily meant for us to solely remember. But we do play upon its stage nevertheless.

I like living in the country. Room to stretch, room to breathe. When I was in Baltimore with D, he took me on a field trip. We ended up buried in nature, surrounded by bodies of water. I sat on a large rock at the edge, gazing at the sun-brightened trees and surface ripples. I would’ve been quite content to sit there forever.

When I was a little, I was a tomboy who played in the woods. My dad set up a tent with a plastic tarp and shoveled a path around the trees for me. That definitely earned him Dad brownie points. That path led to many adventures, alone or usually with Aubrie, my childhood best friend.

We came across a clay pit in the creek, and crowed like we had discovered Incan treasure. We found an upended tree crossing the creek, the torn roots a fort-pocket and the trunk a bridge. We also found a tree we used as our main fort. I planted a cloth flag nearby.

I’ve gone back to those places as an adult. They seem shrunken, depleted of the meaning I attached to them. The land has evolved and changed. I’m no longer a little girl anymore. It’s ok. Though the last time I checked, the flag was still there. Nature’s way of holding on to me a bit? I’m honored.

Dad remarked a few weeks ago that leek season is coming up. So we went leek-hunting on Friday. When I was a kid, we once dug them up and little blisters popped up on my pinkie finger. A poison ivy patch! My only intimate encounter with THAT plant, thank goodness.

Anyway, we walked up the road. I stopped and captured the view. It’s finally May-beautiful, everything shooting out vivid green.

We arrived at the top, Dad purposefully going ahead. He knew where they were.

He did the digging. Leeks are tough little buggers, but reveal their bright beauty when cleaned off.

We also ventured a few paces over and dug up wild horseradish.

We brought the plants home, and I cleaned them in a dish tub outside. I re-rinsed inside. I also grated the horseradish to be used later.

Today I made a quiche. It’s the quiche I always make. I got it from the More-With-Less Cookbook. It’s a Mennonite recipe book published in the 1970’s. (I’m sensing a theme lately.) I changed the recipe slightly.

Prepare the innards first. Mince the leeks and fry them up with some pancetta in olive oil.

(In retrospect, I probably could have added MORE leeks, maybe twice as much. I think I only used a third of a cup.)

I made the crust with cornmeal (the Quaker stuff in the cardboard canister). Combine ½ c. cornmeal, ¾ c. sifted flour, ½ t. salt, and 1/8 t. pepper in a bowl. Cut in 1/3 c. of soft butter. Sprinkle water on top and mix into a thick consistency. You should be able to shape it into a ball. Roll out and press into a pie dish.

Add the innards with crumbled goat cheese.

Beat 5 eggs with ¾ c. of 2% milk and add a pinch of salt. Pour over innards. Sprinkle on a little sea salt. Bake at 350 degrees for 50 minutes.