<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Seuhj5S49KI/AAAAAAAAA8I/iuSba12xIm0/s1600-h/DSC04375-2.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326528622343287970" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Seuhj5S49KI/AAAAAAAAA8I/iuSba12xIm0/s400/DSC04375-2.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

This is what we saw on our way in to the 20th annual <a href="http://herbalaffairandfestival.com/">Sand Springs Herbal Affair</a>, the kick-off of Tulsa's spring and summer festival season and one of the first sources of the year for gardening supplies, Tulsa arts and crafts and locally grown plants, produce and other foods, yesterday afternoon: Every street within a few blocks of the festival lined with cars.

My initial thought was, "Aw. I'm so glad this little festival is getting a good turn out this year, considering the rain and the crappy economy and all."

Then we hit the festival proper.

<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeuhCILzy0I/AAAAAAAAA74/nUlzxC3kB7k/s1600-h/DSC04376-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326528042224569154" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeuhCILzy0I/AAAAAAAAA74/nUlzxC3kB7k/s400/DSC04376-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

And I didn't have a little-festival-that-could to feel overprotective of anymore.

Hundreds showed up at the same time we did to show their enthusiasm for anything and everything gardening at this small-town festival that covered nearly three acres.

In case you've been living under a rock and didn't know, vegetable gardening is the hottest thing going this spring. Odds are you know at least someone, especially if you're in with the 25-40 set, who is growing their own veggies and herbs this spring.

Regular readers of this blog know <a href="http://www.tashadoestulsa.com/2009/03/what-my-valentines-day-activities-hath.html">my little family has a fledgling vegetable garden</a>, despite the efforts of my mischievous feline pet. Since we're going organic and will need a natural way to control pests, and since they're my favorite flower ever, we'll be planting some of these:

<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Seug3GNOcyI/AAAAAAAAA7w/3yB0eMRT4RU/s1600-h/DSC04382-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326527852715078434" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Seug3GNOcyI/AAAAAAAAA7w/3yB0eMRT4RU/s400/DSC04382-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

I hear marigolds are good to plant around tomato plants. I'm sure these people would know a thing or two about that.

<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeuguP3ALwI/AAAAAAAAA7o/uSzVqAzBFRU/s1600-h/DSC04384-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326527700687400706" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeuguP3ALwI/AAAAAAAAA7o/uSzVqAzBFRU/s400/DSC04384-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a><a href="http://indietulsa.wordpress.com/2007/04/17/tomato-man/">Legendary</a>.

<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeugeW0pizI/AAAAAAAAA7g/cbephm38OXI/s1600-h/DSC04385-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326527427678669618" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeugeW0pizI/AAAAAAAAA7g/cbephm38OXI/s400/DSC04385-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

<a href="http://mydadssalsa.com/">Yummy salsa</a>. Yes.

<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeugMwsGg-I/AAAAAAAAA7Q/0eCZS2cQKuk/s1600-h/DSC04388-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326527125384496098" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeugMwsGg-I/AAAAAAAAA7Q/0eCZS2cQKuk/s400/DSC04388-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

<a href="http://www.clearcreeklavender.com/">The best soap makers in the universe</a>. I'm serious. A few years ago I snagged a few bars at the <a href="http://tulsastatefair.com/">Tulsa State Fair</a>, and after I used them up, I almost shed tears when I realized I hadn't saved the tags that told the name of the maker. I about fell off my rocker when I realized I had found this soap again at Herbal Affair and had to restrain myself from relieving the Clear Creek folks of their entire stock. 

This soap is the only bar soap that doesn't dry my skin to an alligator-like state, and it smells divine. And by divine I mean that I want everything in my little world to smell like this soap, including my eyeballs.

<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326521366005283794" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Seua9hVF-9I/AAAAAAAAA4Y/7bmVEMTW8Q0/s400/DSC04429-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" />

If I could use one soap for the rest of my life, this would be it.

And...I'm done talking about soap. I promise. 

And now, some shots of a massive, herbaceous crowd.

<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeugEh87OjI/AAAAAAAAA7I/ypPW-U0n-Ng/s1600-h/DSC04389-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326526983989574194" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeugEh87OjI/AAAAAAAAA7I/ypPW-U0n-Ng/s400/DSC04389-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeufvquXO7I/AAAAAAAAA64/4xP4l1nKl_Q/s1600-h/DSC04390-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326526625567161266" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeufvquXO7I/AAAAAAAAA64/4xP4l1nKl_Q/s400/DSC04390-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

Here's one of my favorite herb vendors, <a href="http://agritourism.travelok.com/?id=13&amp;co=368">The Peppermint Dragon</a>, headed by Donna Vogelpohl of my old stomping grounds in Sapulpa. 

She spearheaded the effort to get <a href="http://www.tashadoestulsa.com/2008/07/fresh-tuesday.html">a farmers market to Williams Green in downtown Tulsa</a>. Donna helped me to fulfill my urgent preggie cravings for homegrown cherry tomatoes during the summer before last when I was trying to walk from my parking garage at Third and Cincinnati to my office at Fifth and Boston without tossing everything I had ever eaten in my entire life onto the sidewalk. 

There were times when those tomatoes were the only things that helped. And I am forever grateful and am writing run-on sentences about them.

<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeuflYXc_eI/AAAAAAAAA6w/SGdiX4_QHzI/s1600-h/DSC04391-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326526448840539618" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeuflYXc_eI/AAAAAAAAA6w/SGdiX4_QHzI/s400/DSC04391-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

Here's <a href="http://www.sandspringsok.org/category.php?cat=1004">Sand Springs Museum</a>, a.k.a. Page Memorial Library. My Brownie meetings were in the basement of this building. That was, until I quit because, as a girl, I was really out of touch with reality and so sometimes had a much more difficult time making friends than I did making a fool of myself acting like a princess or a unicorn in the cereal aisle of the grocery store. 

I'm better now. Mostly. 

<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Seufa8DdL_I/AAAAAAAAA6o/-852VtySGxE/s1600-h/DSC04393-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326526269441781746" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Seufa8DdL_I/AAAAAAAAA6o/-852VtySGxE/s400/DSC04393-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

We Okies love our funnel cakes. 

<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeufNay-F0I/AAAAAAAAA6g/agOsCefiRqI/s1600-h/DSC04394-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326526037175965506" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeufNay-F0I/AAAAAAAAA6g/agOsCefiRqI/s400/DSC04394-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Seud51YXxaI/AAAAAAAAA6Y/vWdqnN651s0/s1600-h/DSC04395-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326524601203148194" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Seud51YXxaI/AAAAAAAAA6Y/vWdqnN651s0/s400/DSC04395-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

Just look at the crowds.

But, let's not forget about the plants...

<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeudlJ4kCCI/AAAAAAAAA6Q/MnE-icQJv_c/s1600-h/DSC04397-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326524245929625634" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeudlJ4kCCI/AAAAAAAAA6Q/MnE-icQJv_c/s400/DSC04397-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

And the herbs. 

Italian parsley and sweet basil: The herbs I could eat on virtually anything.

<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Seuda2y-m_I/AAAAAAAAA6I/6pRr-HwWmhg/s1600-h/DSC04398-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326524069007236082" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Seuda2y-m_I/AAAAAAAAA6I/6pRr-HwWmhg/s400/DSC04398-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

Mmm, Cherokee Purple tomatoes. My favorite heirloom variety. So rich. So meaty. So purple. 

<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeudHnT3KmI/AAAAAAAAA54/meGOWC6TlDs/s1600-h/DSC04399-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326523738432678498" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeudHnT3KmI/AAAAAAAAA54/meGOWC6TlDs/s400/DSC04399-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

And peppers. Oh, peppers.

<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Seuc39F0U4I/AAAAAAAAA5w/ZTUTAkKKL3c/s1600-h/DSC04400-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326523469401445250" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Seuc39F0U4I/AAAAAAAAA5w/ZTUTAkKKL3c/s400/DSC04400-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Seucu5l2LNI/AAAAAAAAA5o/KUWs-fggPss/s1600-h/DSC04401-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326523313843219666" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/Seucu5l2LNI/AAAAAAAAA5o/KUWs-fggPss/s400/DSC04401-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeucllkvSwI/AAAAAAAAA5g/tIjP4LY6i1U/s1600-h/DSC04403-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326523153851042562" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeucllkvSwI/AAAAAAAAA5g/tIjP4LY6i1U/s400/DSC04403-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326522674850538274" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeucJtKHoyI/AAAAAAAAA5I/znf4Di0qRn8/s400/DSC04405-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" />

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I have a thing for spoons. Actually, I have a thing for just about any kitchen utensil. Spoons are just part of a much larger obsession.

<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeubkLUDs3I/AAAAAAAAA4w/kiIDn7M3A1g/s1600-h/DSC04417-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326522030110258034" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeubkLUDs3I/AAAAAAAAA4w/kiIDn7M3A1g/s400/DSC04417-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

Is this little boy ever going to return the heart he has stolen from me? Or will he stomp on it and call it bad names by running away with some girl here in about 20 years?

<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeubSndaPKI/AAAAAAAAA4o/4QrOStkl_-s/s1600-h/DSC04421-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326521728428031138" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeubSndaPKI/AAAAAAAAA4o/4QrOStkl_-s/s400/DSC04421-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeubG28ZkQI/AAAAAAAAA4g/7nctbYybeLg/s1600-h/DSC04423-1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5326521526426112258" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 255px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_tZVufRlMtzM/SeubG28ZkQI/AAAAAAAAA4g/7nctbYybeLg/s400/DSC04423-1.JPG" border="0" alt="" /></a>

He's already quite the ladies' man, as you can see. I should prepare myself now.

The only thing I have going for me at this point is that I can whip up a sippy cup of chocolate milk a heck of a lot faster than some elfin chick made of concrete. I don't look cute in pigtails, though, so she has that going for her.

Don't go and think the goods brought around by the Sand Springs Herbal Affair vendors are once-a-year opportunities. Odds are they're available at one or more of the several farmers markets in the Tulsa area, or that you get snag them directly from the vendor via the Web or pick-up.

Which is a good thing. Because while Herbal Affair is the official start of spring in the Tulsa area and brings with it all the trappings of said season, it is only one Saturday. And we crowds of Tulsans, we have to stay herbaceous somehow. 