Cool clear skies and snowed-in days,
My man crochets, and the boy, he plays.
I wander the kitchen, wonder what to make,
But my belly’s been hurtin’ as of late.
So, no bread or cookies will be baked,
No pies, buns, pizza doughs, for Pete’s sake!
I’m sorry boys, but instead I’d love,
Something just chock-full of bugs.
Well, it’s February, and the fridge, it bursts.
With roots and shoots, of order the first.
But sometimes it’s tough to get through so much,
And there’s always a turnip/radish/cabbage, that we just don’t touch.
So, today I’m going to retire the old roots.
Chop, grate, spice, spice, spice, then smash down with a boot.
To create a beautiful, and hopefully robust,
Spicy snack to treat my hard-working guts.
The best of the microbial world will appear,
In just days, so don’t you fear.