This was to be the Year of the Vegetable. I have preached the Potato Is A Vegetable sermon more times than anyone has cared to listen to it. But this year was supposed to be different. Over the Christmas holiday, I had a go at kale and a rainbow of peppers. I was off and running.

Next I borrowed a copy of Animal, Vegetable, Miracle from the local library. I began to wonder if fresh zucchinni really was edible and started to speculate on the possibilities of winter squash recipes.

But I turned down split pea soup. For all my talk, I still took the convenient route and picked up my groceries at the supermarket a block away instead of braving the cold to the farmer’s market after work or on the weekends. I blame January for my failures. And I tell myself I’ll do better next month.

And then the boy shared this bit of of bedtime reading with me: Rethinking the Meat Guzzler.

This is the sort of lullaby that can cause nightmares and gives the Year of the Vegetable a renewed sense of immediacy. Please read.