Whoopee! We’ve made it through another winter. Spring has officially arrived!

Our calendars and almanacs confirm this event—whether in an old-fashioned paper version’s printed text or via the modern equivalent employing glowing pixels on a fancy digital screen.

But like most outdoor-minded folks, I maintain my faith regarding the progress of our annual seasonal journey by monitoring the natural signs.

I scrutinize swelling buds and sniff for the scent of tree pollen on the morning air. Bogs and wet corners are scoured for blooming skunk cabbage. Amongst the drier woods, I look for hepatica and bloodroot. I poke holes in maple trees with the awl blade of my Swiss Army knife—then taste the oozing sap.

Nature tells me all I need to know regarding spring’s onset.

A diminutive downy woodpecker hammers out the vernal good news from atop the dead ash snag. An ebullient song sparrow sitting atop the fence near the woodpile sings his effervescent agreement.

Down in the hill country, with the dawning of each new day, the woodland’s high hillsides and cloistered hollows ring with the loud gobbles of lovesick cock turkeys. Joining them, stirred by their own procreative urges, male ruffed grouse hop atop handy stumps or logs to drum out their seasonal affirmation.

These signs, and a hundred others, all proclaim the fact that spring has truly returned.

I’m thus convinced. The matter’s “true gen,” as a great uncle might phrase it, was apparent.

However, while I’m not doubting spring’s veracity, I still want more. What I need is a proof I can sink my teeth into…literally!

For me, nothing more surely authenticates spring’s arrival than actually going afield and gathering a mess of potherb greens.

Yup, a tangy wild green salad or soup will resurrect my taste buds, and shift my way beyond any lingering winter-dulling blahs caused by bland supermarket grazing.

That’s season’s first mess of fresh wild greens will furnish such pick-me-up nourishment it’s positively atavistic.

Gathering a mess of early-spring greens gives purpose to spending a late March day afield—turning an aimless ramble into a botanical mission.

It’s a distinction worth remembering when providing an excuse for going AWOL.

You’ll not only return home from green gathering with the plants themselves, but feeling the forager’s smug satisfaction of having covertly collected a tasty meal smack under the noses of the lazy and less savvy.

Of course, which greens you actually end up finding depends on where you look and the vagaries of a particular year. No two springs are ever exactly alike. So you’re choice of greens may vary.

But of the dozen or more edible plants generally available this time of year, I have three standout favorites—wintercress, watercress, and sorrel.

Commonly cultivated in Europe, the Latin name for wintercress, Barbarea vulgaris, derives from the fact this was historically one of the few green plants that could be gathered and eaten on Saint Barbara’s Day, December 4th. Wintercress was doubtless introduced into North America by early settlers and, like so many other plants, quickly escaped and began its own westward expansion.

Wintercress thrives in damp pastures, moist woods, on cleared land, and along country roadways. Some mountain folks refer to wintercress as “creasy greens.” I’ve also heard it called wild broccoli, spring cress, upland cress, and yellow rocket.

Wintercress makes a fine raw salad, is delicious when lightly boiled, and can be used in soups and stews. When gathered early in the year and quickly blanched, it is as mild as leaf lettuce. Nutritionally, per ounce, it contains twice the vitamin C as raw broccoli spears and ten times that of an orange.

Watercress, Nasturtium officinale, another introduced species, can also be eaten raw or boiled, as part of a salad mix, garnishment, or addition in other dishes. It has a peppery taste which proves excellent in various stir-fry recipes. In Ireland, watercress was traditionally boiled with bacon

As its name implies, watercress is found growing smack in the shallow water of many area streams. I know several nearby brooks which are choked in portions, bank-to-bank, with a verdant green mass of succulent watercress—easy pickin’s whenever I want a mess.

The only caution regarding watercress comes if you’re planning to eat it raw. Know your water source—make sure there are no animal feedlots immediately upstream; if in doubt, cook.

Wood sorrel, Oxalis acetosella, and sheep sorrel, Rumex acetosella—unrelated except for their name—are abundant hereabouts from pasture edges to urban backyards.

The sour-crisp taste of either plant can be wonderful when added to salads, soups, and sauces, and in teas both hot and cold. I especially like sorrel in stir-fries, or when lightly sautéed with garlic and bits of chicken and added to pasta.

Spring is green and greens taste like spring. Why not head afield, and then enjoy confirming its arrival by savoring a taste of the season?

Reach Jim McGuire at [email protected].