Bonjour mars, au revoir mars

[Hello March, goodbye March]

I’ve felt raindrops running through my hair; and my dress too. I’ve made a cake. And another one too.

I’ve seen blossoms on every tree. I’ve walked in empty avenues, with my eyes closed and his hand on mine. I’ve had dreams I never knew I had.

I’ve lied in the grass, under a sun that felt like vanilla ice-lollies and pims and kisses of the French kind. I’ve listened to the trees hum until the sky turned pink.

I’ve barely slept, at least at night. And I’ve cried a little. At times with a reason, most of the times without.

Perhaps that’s the very essence of spring. Not unlike erasing a chalk board and making wishes for every flower that blooms.

A spring that’s going to be full of surprises.

And taming fears. And rhubarb.

Because let’s face it, only so many things taste as good as rhubarb does.

The not-so official rhubarb favourites.

1. One pot rhubarb cordial, compote, and sauce.
2. Rhubarb curd.
3. A rhubarb ice-cream, made of chunky rhubarb compote and cream. It doesn’t get any easier. Oh yes, don’t forget to churn.
4. The prettiest milkshake.
5. Rhubarb and custard kinda soufflé.
6. A tart with orange blossom custard and stewed rhubarb. With its juices, of course.
7. Inside a madeleine. Or on top of a chewy meringue cloud.
8. A crumble, with fennel too.
9. Wine-stewed rhubarb. To try with rosé or champagne, perhaps.
10. On a cake, with a custard glaze. Or maybe, in a doughnut would be even better.


  1. I didn’t think one could capture spring essence so delightfully with words. And yet, you just did.
    Hope the crying days are over now. Even when it’s without a reason.

  2. I’ve cried too. Most of the times, without a reason, as you. But then the sky gets blue, and the sun warms you, so tears disappear and smiles come back. Yes, it’s Spring, again.

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