The green hill of Mud Lake (to be read with an Irish accent)

Top of the morning, unless this is late in the day for you in which case you may replace it with a more proper salutation. It was a glorious day here on the Hill o'er Mud Lake. The grass is as green as I remember those lovely hills of Ireland, splashed with the dew like the sea herself had tiptoed about, and sprinkled them with mist. The wee pup was up early driving hard into the foliage sending out a spray like he was a freighter cutting through the open sea.

The bonny wife was a bit latter in greeting the morning sun, she had been weeding in the fields the day before and though she's not as young as she used to be, she is a sight to behold when a grass or a thistle dare invade her furrowed rows.

The greens are all in mighty fine form, you would be hard-pressed to find a finer head of lettuce in all the county. And the basil, what can you say, it is so green you would think must be Irish and not from that other place.  Now to call bok choy Irish would be a tall tale to be sure, but the hues of color in a single plant can be downright mesmerizing and let’s be honest, it is far more green than any potato.

So pick up a pint, and strike up the band , grab the hand of a bonny lass and dance a jig for life is good.  But it’s even better with a salad.