While spectating my daughter’s soccer game, I surreptitiously watch a little boy dig a small hole in the frost-killed grass. He’s met a new friend, I surmise, another younger sibling, and the two of them make homes for a handful of plastic dinosaurs — nests the boys call them.
On their knees, they’re completely entranced. When the game’s over, they wander away, each to their own family.
In our garden, it’s Brussels sprout season now. Beneath the black edges, the tiny vegetables are perfectly green, tender as spring.
My favourite vegetable, without a doubt,
Is the humble, but holy, Brussels sprout.
— Angela Wybrow
Stony Soil Vermont 
Don’t you love the way young children will call anyone they’ve played with “my friend”.
I really do! Good point. I don’t think these little boys even knew each other’s names.
I love Brussels sprouts — thinly sliced and sautéed with sliced shallots.
Oooo, shallots. Hadn’t thought of that. Bacon so often co-ops center stage in our kitchen.