Twas the night before Christmas and we were all reading Dickens
Not a creature was stirring except Kevin the chicken
The bacon stockings were hung by the chimney so careful,
Each owner hoping that St. Nick would leave them a truffle.
The plums were all nestled in sugar and rum,
While tortes, and salted caramels made us all feel numb.
And my partner and I in my organic hand crocheted cap,
Had just settled down for a long winter’s nap.
When out in the pesticide free garden arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was a matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tripping over the yoga mat as I made my mad dash.
The moon shining golden like butter on rib eye steak,
Brought light through jars of chutney we make.
When, what to my wondering eyes should I see,
But at least fifty Santas standing in the community garden’s snap peas.
Carrying rakes, and hoes and wearing cute garden clogs,
One on a ipad in the midst of a blog.
Another in charge with smile on his face,
Hushed the crowd, looking for peace.
“Now you and you”, he pointed around,
We need to get these seeds into the ground.
We’ll protect them with magic until they’re ready for spring,
And then people in town will eat like a king!
Eggplants and peppers, kale and chard,
Lettuce, and beans, we’ll use every square yard!
Raspberries and tomatoes that are only the best din,
When they’re eaten in season juice that runs down your chin.
A Santa in back her hand bounced in the air,
“But what if they don’t cook or sadly don’t care?”
The Santa in charge with a twinkle in his eye,
Said, “We’ll teach them our passion, one person at a time.”
We’ll show them the fabulousness of garlic and thyme,
Of cilantro and coconut, peanuts and lime.
The awe of vegetable cooked just so,
Will bring them back to the kitchens they know.
Young or old we’ll teach them the magic,
Of tenderloin stuffed with blue cheese, shrooms and cabbage.
Each person will learn how to wield the knife,
And families will cook together every night.
As the country’s health travels down a better path,
There will be money for English, Science and Math.
We’ll go back to invention and creation of things,
Think of it only from learning to cook instead of “fries with that please”.
There was a whispered cheer from the crowd and a bustle of motion,
And I slipped away from the window filled with emotion.
Before I slipped back in bed I typed into my calendar,
Reminder “Garden Party/Cooking Class” in early September.
They slipped away before morning and left only neat rows,
Of what soon will be meals for who only knows.
Food for the body, and the soul in each bite!
We are wishing you a Merry Christmas and to all a good night!