Farmers and ranchers keep looking to the skies for clouds that will produce springtime showers. We came close last week but only received a drizzle from what was originally forecast to be an inch or more of rain.

As I write this column, it does not look like any rain is on the way. Those of us who have lived along the Central Coast know we can get some good rain events through May. Unfortunately, it will be too late to help the grass that is already drying along the coastal hillsides.

The spectacular explosion of wildflowers this year will begin to fade away as well. It has been a long time since the hills showed off the splashes of blue lupine and California poppies over the large expanse that make up our coastal foothills.

It reminds me of a time when I must have been in the second or third grade. The hills behind our house on Alamo Pintado were loaded with lupine.

I remember walking through the flowers that were almost up to my chest. It was just below and north of where Iris Rideau built her lovely home.

I decided to pick some flowers for my teacher at Ballard School, which was either Mrs. Finnell or Miss Hamilton.

I remember going out with my grandfather Sam in the springtime, after a good rainfall year, and picking mushrooms just north of the adobe on Alamo Pintado.

There were only certain years the mushrooms would grow, and Sam knew just which ones to pick.

They had white caps with a pink skin underneath. I recall eating them, and no one ever got sick. I/m not sure I would eat them today, knowing how difficult it is to know which mushrooms are poisonous and which are not.

If we had a wet winter, Sam and I would go out in the springtime and look for mustard greens. We used to pick them right before the mustard plant flowered so they would not be too bitter.

After picking out the moist, tender leaves, we would head back to the adobe to wash and begin preparing the leaves for an early Californian dish known as quelites.

We would wash the mustard leaves, and then Sam would cut them up. At the same time, he would have a frying pan cooking garlic with a little bacon fat on the stove.

He would put in just the right amount of mustard leaves, being careful not to cook them too long. Then he would add just the right amount of cooked pinto or pink beans, and when they were warm, the quelites were ready.

I was just a small boy when Sam would make quelites. I still try to cook quelites every year, and once in a while I will come close to the same flavor I remember as little boy, but I have never hit it just right.

Maybe I am missing the part I cannot re-create, the small kitchen at the rear of the adobe, the older electric stove, the cast-iron skillet or, more importantly, the expertise and company of my grandparents, Sam and Eileen.

Last weekend wife Karen and both kids, Kathleen and Clayton, went with me as I checked parts of the vineyard driving our Kubota utility vehicle. The kids are old enough now to drive, with dad/s assistance.

Kathleen is tall enough to reach the pedals and steer, while dad covers the gas pedal and brakes for Clayton as he takes his turn at the wheel.

I spotted some mustard greens that were just right for this year/s rendition of quelites, while the kids were more interested in the lupine and fiddleneck growing in the hills.

After trying to kill fiddleneck in our grain fields years ago, who would have thought I would actually be helping the kids pick some to take home to Karen.

As we made our way home, Clayton spotted a few squirrels scampering down the hillsides, running to their burrows between grapevines.

Soon we came upon a few rows dug up the night before by wild pigs. Both Kathleen and Clayton let me know there was a pig attack last night.

I told them I would take care of them later, maybe some carnitas or a barbecue for our guys who work on the vineyard. I/ll get some pig tags when I/m in town tomorrow.

If you have not had a chance to see this year/s wildflower show, make time and take a ride out into the country while they are still out. They won/t be much longer.

Take a picnic, and don/t forget your favorite bottle of Central Coast wine. You might even see some mustard greens ready to pick along the edge of a country road.

Kevin Merrill is a vineyard manager for Mesa Vineyard Management in Santa Maria. He is president for the Central Coast Wine Growers/ Association Foundation and serves as a board member for the Santa Barbara County Farm Bureau. He can be reached at kmerrill@mesavineyard.com.

April 13, 2008