A few months ago I made some broccoli, and I got several emails asking me to post more simple recipes like that.
So here we are, with tomatoes and avocados.
Warm weather vegetables! Except they're really fruits. But whatever.

Ingredients:
For the salad
One big ripe avocado or two
Some ripe little tomatoes
For the dressing
A few tablespoons of olive oil
A few tablespoons of balsamic vinegar
A tablespoon of Dijon mustard
Salt and pepper

1. Peel and cut your avocados.
(I do this by cutting them in half, then in quarters, then peeling each quarter before cubing them.)
2. Wash and cut your tomatoes. I cubed these bad boys.
3. Throw them in a bowl together. Seriously. Now we're going to make balsamic vinaigrette.
(Find that recipe after these photos.)

I have no measurements for this balsamic vinaigrette because I just kind of make it up as I go. 

But here's what you do:

1. Start with salt and pepper. Add a little vinegar.

2. Add a little Dijon mustard--maybe a tablespoon.

3. Mix those together while adding a slow stream of olive oil.

(Usually I just pour everything in a jar and shake it up.)

Everyone needs a tiny whisk.

Toss the salad with the dressing and eat it by itself or throw it on top of a bed of lettuce, maybe, or on some chicken? Maybe throw it on an omelette. Or, like I said, eat it by itself. Easy peasy. Now go outside.

Today's cause of nostalgia is spring-like weather. If you've been reading for a while, you know it really is an almost-daily trigger that leaves me visited by an enormous nostalgia (one of my favorite phrases and pretty much the mantra of my life so far--see?).

When it rains and is warm and stays light out until well after 6:00 PM, I feel hopeful. I always say that I feel like myself at the beginning of autumn, but I guess that's not entirely true. It's the combination of the two. Fall promises that brighter times are coming, and then spring delivers.

It's the beginning of both of these seasons--fall and spring--where I truly feel like the person that I want to be. The productive person who reads and goes running every day, who doesn't feel anxiety, who laughs constantly and spends time with friends and tries to love everyone and eats brunch and drinks Bloody Marys outside on patios on a regular basis.

So when it rains and is warm and stays light out until well after 6:00 PM, I start to think about last year in Charlottesville, with walks around UVA and pistachio milk lattes on the patio of my favorite coffee shop and Sunday mornings at home with Rob.

I think about Farmville, and our undergrad adventures with roommates and friends who made everything fun. I think about Clarissa and Dirty Shirleys with Caroline at one of two of the only bars in town, and the 45-minute drive that Raquel and I used to make just to get dinner from Chipotle.

And next spring, I'll look back at this spring and think about taking my dog downtown for the St. Patrick's Day parade and stopping to let every kid we passed pet him, walking around until he was so tired and happy he could barely keep his eyes open on the drive home. I'll look back at the spring on the lake where so much of my life felt like it was in transition, and I'll feel the same way I do each year, but different.

March always feels really hopeful to me. 

I find myself making a list of things to be happy about as spring approaches.

Warmer afternoons with sunny skies.

Flower buds poking here and there out of the earth.

An anniversary coming up and three (three!) visits this month.

Longer days, iced coffee, wedge sandles, and polka-dotted skirts.

Any reason to read and read and read E.E. Cummings' in Just. 

Here's to a bright new season, where the world is puddle-wonderful.

PS I posted almost twice as much as usual this week.
Hope you didn't miss out on some of my favorites here and here and here.