Since the winter-like weather always seems to dominate news and conversation here in Northern Minnesota, I thought I’d share a couple of photos that were taken recently. We live a hop, skip and a jump from enormous Lake Superior, and it’s not unusual to see people walking on its frozen surface during our many winter months. Even in April!

Apparently if you were in the right place at the right time, you could also see a couple of timber wolves taking a Sunday stroll on the icy surface of Superior.

And I wonder if the wolf couple eventually met up with this trio of cyclists, also using Lake Superior for their bike trail?

We have had temperatures in the high forties of late, so the wolves and the bikers have had to seek alternate paths.

Waiting for spring,

I love to read and to talk about books with people. For a decade I was a part of a wonderful book club called The Long Winter Book Club, and I miss getting together monthly with all the smart and funny women, our lively discussions, the creative treats, and the journeys via books that we took together.

In previous posts I’ve written about four of my very favorite books, and now I’ll share about the fifth one/s in my top five. It’s so difficult to choose. Other contenders were Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe, Of Whom the World Was Not Worthy by Marie Chapian, The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien, Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis, Expecting Adam by Martha Beck, When God Weeps by Joni Eareckson Tada, The Hawk and the Dove by Penelope Wilcock, The Robe by Lloyd C. Douglas, Treasures of the Snow by Patricia St. John and about eighty-seven others.

I settled on this series, because of the repeated enjoyment I’ve gotten out of them. My husband Michael and I have read these books aloud countless times over the years and have never failed to laugh until we’re both wiping tears. The author was a truly gifted writer whose sense of timing and grasp of language are awe-inspiring. These are books I go back to again and again, and even though they don’t rank up there in literary reputation with Crime and Punishment and Anna Karenina, they never disappoint. People who haven’t read them because they seem to be only about animals and possibly too light a read, are missing out on some of the best books ever.

It all started with this book:

This book made me want to visit Yorkshire. Two years ago Michael and I took an unforgettable trip to England, Scotland and Ireland, and we visited the English Yorkshire town in which James Herriot (real name Alf Wight) practiced veterinary medicine. We toured his home and office, walked the streets of his quaint village – click to see the town square of Thirsk (he called it Darrowby in the books) and stayed in a wonderful bed and breakfast in a nearby village called Pickhill. We thrilled to be able to wake in the mornings and open the windows to the serene views of the Yorkshire Dales…click here. We bought crusty bread, sharp cheese and fresh fruit in a little Thirsk market, and savored that simple meal while almost pinching ourselves to make certain it was all real.

After you read the first Herriot book, you want to go on to the rest of the series right away. Have any of you read these? If not, I encourage you to visit the library and get started. Each chapter is usually a short story itself. You will close the last cover of the last book and never forget what a rich reading experience you just had. As a matter of fact, it’s been a few years since I’ve read these myself. I think I know what my 2009 Summer Read will be: All Creatures Great and Small, All Things Bright and Beautiful, All Things Wise and Wonderful, The Lord God Made Them All and Every Living Thing.

Michael and I enjoyed reading these so much, we then acquired all the DVDs from the British television shows made in the seventies and eighties from these books.

And here’s a photo of Michael, sitting in the actual car that was driven by the actor who played James Herriot in the TV series All Creatures Great and Small.

We were so smitten with Yorkshire we hope to go back someday and spend more than two days there. Until that happens, the next best thing will be to reread this wonderfully written series.

What book have you read recently that you could recommend? Why did you like it? Is there a book you’ve read multiple times already yet plan to read again?

Many book blessings on you,

I found it interesting what some of you are buying at the grocery store. I learned a lot! I found out from Jessica that I should try eating hominy because it’s so yummy. And I have a mental picture of those of you who commented, either sitting on your back deck overlooking the lake and drinking a big glass of red grapefruit juice, or hauling in gallon after gallon of milk to your kitchens, and of whipping up delicious peanut butter shakes in the blender.

I’m in a giving mood today, so instead of choosing just one winner for the April bloggy giveaway, I think all four people who commented should win!

Carolyn wins a large frozen bag of chicken necks and gizzards. (Please hold your applause until we finish announcing the other winners and prizes…)

Kay wins a year’s supply of Parkay and a bag of mangoes.

Jessica wins one dozen mushy cylinders of Liverwurst (my husband craves this)

And Dorothy‘s prize is a $100 gift certificate for Oscar Mayer Bologna, which might make her cry for more reasons than just the obvious one of what a fantastic gift that is to receive.

Actually you know I’m just kidding. Everyone wins a gift certificate to Target. I’ll mail them to you all shortly.

Thank you for entering and reading.

Have a very blessed Easter as you ponder the Real Gift that matters most.  🙂

It’s time for the April giveaway here on the blog! What are the items that you buy almost every time you go to the grocery store? Those things that you reach for so automatically, you don’t even have to write them down on your list?  Some of the things we always buy are:

Greenish bananas

Boneless, skinless chicken breasts

Arrowhead 1% cottage cheese

Spinach pasta nests

Real peanut butter

Brown rice

Canned, diced tomatoes

New England bread

Puffs tissues

Baby carrots

String cheese

Baby red potatoes

Raw almonds

Land O’Lakes 1% milk

Cruz corn tortillas

Honeycrisp or Golden Delicious apples

ERA laundry detergent

Cheerios

And at the checkout line, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. 🙂

And here are some things I have never, ever purchased at the grocery store:

Beef liver

Swiss chard

Fresh apricots

Cinnamon raisin bread

Beets

Fava beans

Wonder white bread

Mountain Dew

Cat litter

Lobster

Charmin’ toilet paper

Hominy

Chocolate covered raisins

Gum drops

Cream of Wheat

Seven-bean salad

Fruit Loops

Now it’s your turn – you could be the winner of this month’s bloggy giveaway!

Tell us a few things you always buy at the grocery store, and a few things you have never bought at the grocery store.

You have until 10:00 a.m. on Tuesday, April 7th to leave your comments – good luck!

Aside from the handful of blogs I like to visit fairly often because I know the people who write them, there are also a couple I read because, well, I’m not sure why I read them. I don’t know the bloggers personally. I guess it’s interesting to have a peek into someone else’s life and thoughts once in a while. It’s funny, because there are people out there who use their blogs as a place to publicly chronicle their days, in a play by play format, and in spite of how boring that might sound, I don’t usually find those blogs boring at all. If I posted similarly on this blog, it might read something like this.

Yesterday, on the last day of March when heartening signs of spring are supposed to be popping up everywhere, we sat at home in yet another blizzard. The snow fell from the sky horizontally all day, and the dry patches of grass that had begun to show in the yard are now all covered by at least six inches of newly fallen snow. It’s magical and beautiful in November, and enough to make you groan and pull your hair out on the first of April.

I have been battling a sinus infection for weeks now, and woke feeling blechy, and did not go to Community Bible Study, which is such an important and beloved part of my life. But I didn’t feel sick enough to stay in bed, which I haven’t done for years anyway. After Michael and I made breakfasts, visited with and administered medications for the women we care for, I put the dogs outside. Mildred leaps through the snow all over the back yard like a curious and happy gazelle. Edith takes two tentative steps into the white stuff and then turns back to the door and wants back in, looking tragic. We have to go outside and close the door behind us and yell, “Get out there Edith! Go potty! Now!” And she will eventually comply, but never without our verbal encouragement.

Then Michael and I went upstairs to our comfy chairs in our bedroom, and sipped hot, brisk tea and had two shortbread cookies each while we read aloud from our Bibles. We are reading through the whole Bible together, slowly, and independent from our own reading. We’ve almost made it through each book. Yesterday we read a chapter each from Leviticus, 1 Samuel, and Acts. And we read Psalm 31 aloud. Even though Leviticus can be hard reading, I ended up crying when I realized that I am not required to offer a drink, grain or wave offering to the Lord as His people were before Christ – but that of my own accord I can offer Him something each day. I am not compelled in the way the Israelites were, thousands of years ago, yet I am still compelled, by my heart, to offer gifts to Him today. Yesterday I wanted to give Him a sacrifice of praise, because to do so was harder for me than usual, and it cost me something. I wanted to give Him my attention and obedience, out of a free and willing heart, because He is worthy of that and so much more. It’s pretty amazing how reading through Leviticus can touch my life. It doesn’t always happen that way, but even if lightning doesn’t flash when I read His Word, I know I’m being fed. I don’t remember what I had for lunch sixteen days ago, but whatever it was nourished me. I read and meditate on the Bible for much the same reasons, spiritually speaking. Sometimes I have wow and aha moments as I read, but if I don’t, I know something nourishing and powerful is happening anyway.

Then we went downstairs and I did some laundry and then we cleaned the kitchen, and I got a huge pot of chili started. Then I got out my kitchen step-stool and pulled out my automatic bread maker from the back of a top cupboard, and started a loaf of sour dough bread baking. I looked forward to the aromas that simmering chili and baking bread would bring, especially on a stormy day, but because of my infection, my sense of smell is completely gone. I’ve never had this happen before, and it seems sort of serious to me. I can put my face right up to the fresh ground coffee I’m getting ready to spoon into the pot in the morning, and can’t smell one thing. I can’t smell perfume, bleach, soap, nothing. I know there are problems so much bigger than that (like Parkinson’s Disease and unemployment and family heartaches) but I’m starting to wonder if my ability to smell is gone for good. I can’t taste food correctly, either. I can discern if something is sweet or bitter or salty, but there are no flavors for me. But I digress from the important details of yesterday.

Michael decided since the roads were bad and numerous accidents were being reported, he wasn’t going anywhere either. I thought I would quit procrastinating and start working on a pile of paperwork in my office at least one foot high. I asked Michael if he would keep me company while I worked, to help me just do it. Pathetic, I know. But he agreed, and I carried the pile into the den and began.

I began separating the huge pile into four smaller piles, one for each woman we care for. That took a long time and the den floor was covered. Then I punched three holes in all of those piles, because each paper goes in a specific place in a ridiculously thick notebook, which will be scrutinized with a fine-tooth comb by an agent of the State of Minnesota every other year, and if one thing is missing or out of place a citation will be issued. I am serious.

In between all of this, I kept the laundry going, stirred the chili, let the dogs out and in, out and in, answered phone calls, visited with patient and gracious Michael, blew my nose every few minutes, occasionally glanced at whatever cable cooking or remodeling show was on to keep us company, and watched the snow fall from the grey sky and pile up outside.

I worked on the paperwork for five and a half hours, straight, and then exhaled and called it a paperwork day. I estimate that I was able to complete 3/4 of one person’s paperwork (out of four). Today I hope to finish that one person’s paperwork and start on a second. That’s how much there is. I’ve said it before – my piles look like the Alps to me. I think I’ve learned a lesson about procrastinating though. I don’t ever want to face these mountains again.

Michael commented on the savory smells off and on all day, and I smelled nothing. I am taking Amoxicillin (ten days’ worth!) for my infection, and I can tell it’s not knocking it out. A friend at church asked me what I was taking and said “Oh, that’s the weakest antibiotic there is! It doesn’t help for sinus infections – you need to go back and get _____.”  And now I’m wondering if she’s right. And wondering if my sense of smell will ever return. I used to be able to smell if there was a mouse outside my back door, and a dirty sock near the bed. Now I can’t smell anything. But I think I said that already.

So then I visited with the women we live with, and their conversation was pretty much all about how sick and tired they are of living in a place where it can snow a foot in spring, while other places in the country have cherry blossoms and daffodils. “I hate this snow, I want summer!” one gal kept saying, and I couldn’t have said it any better.

We all enjoyed a hearty dinner, I finished the laundry, chatted some more with our gals, tended to medications, answered e-mails and marveled at how funny and interesting other peoples’ blogs are, and as the darkness of night began to fall, I started to yawn, which is the norm for me. I always turn into a pumpkin as soon as the sun goes down, so in winter I often head upstairs before 8:00 p.m.

Michael was watching the Timberwolves on TV, and I sat with him for a few minutes while he scratched the ridges in my ankles made by my SmartWool socks, and I sipped my necessary nightly concoction, a “Cappuccino Cooler” I could make in my sleep. It has caffeine yet I can fall asleep in no time after drinking it.

Then the snowplow guys came and I put on shoes and went out to move Michael’s truck out of the driveway so they could plow it unhindered. I drove around the block and sat and pondered the day and the ways of God (and the seeming slowness of His timing) while I watched the two guys clear our large driveway with a truck and blade, and shovel a path to our front porch. Our back yard, full of tall trees and a small winding creek, looked like Narnia to me. I’ve asked my grandchildren what they would think if we walked back into those snowy woods someday and found a lamppost. We always smile at the thought of that.

When the snow guys were done, I parked the truck in its now snow-free spot, went back inside, said goodnight to Michael. I read a wonderful book in bed on my new Kindle. It’s a book on prayer, so while I read I prayed and cried, prayed and cried. And I asked God to teach me to pray – so much differently than I do.

Michael came to bed just as I was finishing the book, and the dogs took their places – Edith curled in a tight canine circle in my black plaid bedroom chair, and Millie stretched out on her side on the bed in between Michael and me.

The snow was still falling, but not as heavily. I thought about the next day, which is today, April 1st, and knew I would try to say Rabbit to all my family members first thing, hopefully beating them to it. I thought about how Michael will be 60 years old on April 2nd, and how grateful I am for his love and steadfastness. I thought about how much I want God to bring Ginger the lost cat home to my daughter and her family. I thought about how I will pick up my granddaughter Clara from school on Wednesday and take her to her dance class, and how sweet my time will be with her. I thought about how much I long for my daughters to have peace and joy and purpose and wholeness. And how I want those very things for myself.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m making any difference at all.

And in no time, I slept.

This is one of the chairs in our (still not quite finished) living room. There’s a taupe-colored couch in there too, but this post is about chairs, not couches. This plaid chair hopes to have an upholstered, floral chair to keep it company someday.

And this is one of the chairs in our den. The dogs like to lay on the doily and shriek bark at any and all movement outside the front window.

And this is  another (very old) chair in our den. It used to belong to my mother.

And this is one of the six (identical) chairs around our kitchen table.

This is the chair I sit in most – it’s in our bedroom sitting area. I read here, write in my journal here, and often talk to my heavenly Father here. I’m also trying to learn to be still enough to hear His voice more often.

And this is the other chair in our bedroom sitting area. Michael prefers this one because it’s firmer. We sit together in the late mornings and this is where we read the Bible, pray together, and sometimes have Scottish shortbread and tea while we enjoy a few minutes of quiet.

I’ve been thinking about thankfulness, and what it might mean to the Lord, and what effect it has on my life. When life is not going as expected, it sometimes takes an act of the will to be thankful, especially if you’re a person who usually sees the glass half-empty rather than half-full.

I am so very grateful for many things in my life. God has been good to me and I thank Him every day for the mercies and blessings He has poured out on my family. But I also know that when I’m overwhelmed or worried regarding one aspect of life, that lack of trust in Him unfortunately tends to overshadow the other areas that are going well. And then I find myself in a ditch, stuck and desperately needing to get back up on the road He has called me to.

A few years ago I was doing a Bible study with friends and the speaker talked about how she gives God standing ovations when He does something wonderful for her. She said she believes that if we make a big deal about something the Lord does for us, He might take note of our thankfulness and be apt to do something for us again. She also remarked on how when we give gifts, we’re so pleased when the recipient really likes what we’ve given and shows it, and how disappointing it is when we give to someone who shows little or no gratitude.

Well, I have been trying to hone my gratitude skills. A couple of days ago I learned something that made me experience a tiny shred of hope about something big I’m praying and trusting God for. It’s something that is absolutely impossible without God. In the natural, what I learned the other day wasn’t really all that huge, but I was not going to get caught being ungrateful. I had to run an errand right after this teensy bit of hopeful information came to me, and instead of just saying under my breath, “Thank you, Jesus” and letting it go at that, it occurred to me that maybe I could put a little more effort into my thanks for a change. That aforementioned Bible study came to my mind, and as I drove I began to clap my hands (mostly at stop signs and traffic lights) and thank God out loud for what He did. Pretty soon I was sobbing and applauding Him passionately and crying out to Him in praise and thanksgiving at the top of my lungs. I drove and clapped (carefully), steered and praised, crying out to Him for the longest time, that I had noticed! I saw the little thing that He did! I knew it was Him! And I was offering my best, loudest, most vigorous praise and thanks that I could give. I was truly overtaken with gratitude and wanted my Father to know it.

Now, I’m not entirely comfortable with really wild and loud public displays of praise and worship. I know this is my problem and I do not judge others who are free to express their feelings for the Lord in ways I probably never will. But by myself in the car the other day, I felt completely overcome with the desire to make a big deal out of even the (seemingly) smallest answer to prayer, and didn’t care a whit who might have seen me. I wanted the Lord to know how thankful I am for His help and love in my life and in the lives of those so close to my heart.

Psalm 47:1 – Oh clap your hands, all ye peoples; Shout unto God with the voice of triumph!

I’m assuming that anyone reading this blog post is sitting at their computer. For what or whom can you give God a sitting ovation today? Do you dare clap your hands in gratitude for anything He’s done for you or given to you? How about for drinking water? Clap your hands! For healthy children? Clap your hands! Do you have one friend? Clap your hands all you people!

What do you thank Him for today? And tell us, did you really clap your hands?  🙂

Yesterday I asked my daughter and her husband if my grandson Elijah could spend the night at Grandpa and Grandma’s. I have a bad sinus infection and don’t feel good at all, but I’m not contagious and Elijah is no trouble and is always such good company.

After dinner while I was resting in our bedroom, Elijah was playing happily at the foot of the bed with his Legos. He built ships, swords, and various Star Wars implements with them. Then he played a neat one-person game called Rush Hour, and we chatted while he played. He seemed to understand that I was under the weather, and it was a pleasant, quiet evening as I rested and we enjoyed being together.

When it was time for bed we played “I Spy With My Little Eyes” as we always do, choosing something in the room of a certain color, while the other person tries to guess what it is. These simple games are honestly very enjoyable for me because there’s nothing more wonderful than just being with my grandbabies.

When I tucked Elijah into bed, prayed for him and told him all the things I loved about him, it was quiet and peaceful. After a few minutes he spoke up sleepily and said, “Grandma, there are three things that are the same in you and me.”

“Really? What are they?” I asked, wondering where his thoughts had taken him.

“Well, you and I both like green and blue. And we both like dogs and have dogs.”

“You are so right, Lije. Those are things we both have in common. What’s the third thing?” I asked.

He sat up halfway on his elbow a bit and looked straight at me from his pallet/bed on the floor, so I knew the third thing he was about to share would reveal something momentous in his estimation. Elijah nodded solemnly as he said, “Grandma, and we both have lamps in our bedrooms!”

Someday Elijah will understand how much it means that we actually share flesh and blood, and a heritage of faith in Jesus, but for now, green and blue, dogs and lamps are good enough for him.

Me too.

Have you ever wanted to be beautiful? Or, if you’re a male reader, have you ever wished you were handsome? I’ll bet there isn’t one person reading this who hasn’t desired this at one time or another. As our culture grows more and more obsessed with physical beauty and perfection, the chance of living up to the ideal of the word “beautiful” gets slimmer and slimmer (pun intended).

Can you believe that there are actual beauty “experts” out there who think they have comprehensively defined what genuine beauty consists of for a woman? Here are the generally agreed-upon standards: the ideal woman should have large eyes, a small jaw, chin and nose, full lips, firm breasts, long legs, thick, shiny hair, a longish neck, white, symmetrical teeth that show approximately 1/4-1/2 inch when the lips are parted in relaxation, nicely arched and not-too-thick eyebrows, unblemished skin, and a waist-to-hip ratio of .7 or 70%. And I’m not kidding.

In just one day on television, dozens of infomercials play continually for Bare Minerals makeup, wrinkle-erasing cream, fat-cramming “shapers”, hair extensions, countless exercise contraptions that promise the perfect body in six weeks or less, and faster teeth whitening processes. The underlying message is always “if you can get closer to that ‘ideal’, you will finally be happy.”

I would like to suggest that true beauty has nothing to do with leg length or nose size or skin tone. As I grow older and gain a (hopefully) more wise and reasonable perspective, I think real beauty shines forth in a person who is refreshingly unaware of themselves.

We all know someone who isn’t stereotypically beautiful, but whose personality and demeanor is such that they seem quite lovely to us. We’ve all seen when someone’s inner beauty shines out through any plainness. And we don’t have to look far to see someone’s outer beauty being smeared with ugliness if conceit and self-focus are present with it.

Who wouldn’t like to have a spa treatment that massages away cellulite (ha) and banishes blackheads? Who wouldn’t try the newest mascara that promises the thickest lashes you’ve ever had? I know people who regularly endure some mild pain from chemical “lip plumpers” so they’ll feel just a little bit better about their mouths.

Colossians chapter 3 speaks of another way to beautify ourselves:

¹²Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. ¹³Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. ¹⁴And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.  ¹⁵Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful.

The kind of beauty described above is lasting, in fact it grows more noticeable and resplendent the older a woman gets and the longer she walks a surrendered, rather than a selfish path. Do I write of all this because I always live this way? Hardly. I am not immune to our culture’s influence, and I remember many years when really important life decisions were made because I was being extremely self-focused and vain.

I think each of us craves beauty in our lives in one way or another. We often try to fill our lives with beauty. How many of us like to decorate, to create beauty within the walls of our homes? How many love to garden, to paint, to play beautiful music? How many of us travel so we can experience new and breathtaking beauties we’ve never seen before? I also love the beauty of well-written words. We have an inherent love of beauty. God must love beauty too – He has filled His creation with myriad spectacular examples of beauty and grandeur, and He created us with a capacity to desire and appreciate it all, to tell us something about Himself. I believe when we see Him face to face we are going to be stunned by His beauty.

But our culture’s standards of beauty have gone awry, as described in that fatuous definition at the beginning of this post, and as we see every day through our media.

I used to like to watch the Miss America pageant when I was young. No matter what, I always rooted for Miss California. When I see those pageants today I’m filled with a mixture of amusement and sadness. I think back to the amount of time I spent (especially in my younger years) making sure I looked as good as possible, and wonder what kind of a woman I would be today if I had spent the same amount of time developing my inner life.

I wonder what a Heavenly Beauty Contest would be like. What would qualify someone for the sash and tiara in a pageant based on what God thinks is beautiful? Let’s use our imaginations here.

I’d like to describe some Heavenly Beauty Contest winners from years past. Picture this: the first contestant was very plain of face. She had thick ankles and her waist to hip ratio was approximately .95, meaning she didn’t even have a waist. According to one of today’s “beauty experts,” the many deep lines on her face would have made her a candidate for a surgical lift, but they also betrayed the fact that she had probably smiled hugely at least a million times in her life. She probably never knew the word “highlight” in terms of her hair. But I think the Lord thinks she’s beautiful, because she so sacrificially loved Him, and always brought His love and hope to whomever she was with, even in a hellish concentration camp. She brought true beauty into the world. Her name? Corrie ten Boom.

How about Contestant Number Two in our Heavenly Beauty Contest? She had very few, if any, of the characteristics of today’s “Ideal Woman.” She had a large nose, small, slightly crooked teeth, beady, close-set eyes, leathery skin. Her small frame wasn’t curvy or anything to write home about. She could have used some help on her eyebrows. I wonder how beautiful the Lord thought she was as He watched her give her entire life to serve and comfort the outcasts in Calcutta that few others would even touch. All because of her deep love for Jesus. You know who Contestant Number Two is – Mother Teresa.

And contestant number 3, or 4, or 26 or 187 could be that woman who lives right next door to you. Or it could even be you. I’m not saying we shouldn’t wear mascara or try to be physically fit. I love beautiful clothes and appreciate beauty in people. I’m just saying the vigorous pursuit of it doesn’t satisfy. It doesn’t last. It doesn’t bring peace to our souls or happiness to our homes.

What will I do today to bring true beauty into my home? Even though I don’t have all the answers, I know it all begins with the One who thought beauty up in the first place. I think I’ll start with Him. He’s the only One I know of who can deal with that hard-to-reach inner self.

There’s a passage in 1 Peter that says the godly women of old made themselves beautiful by putting their hope in God. I’ve seen this marvelously demonstrated in some women I know today. The women who calmly, joyfully trust Jesus, the ones who really put their hope in Him, radiate a beauty this world knows nothing about.

I think that’s where I’ll start today. I’m putting my hope in Jesus. How about you?

Thanks for all your input about what I should include next on the blog. It was actually a tie, so I chose which one to post, and it may come as a surprise.

I love Pico de Gallo, which in Spanish means Rooster’s Beak. You could call it a salsa, I suppose, but to me it’s just one of the most delicious, easy things to make, and it tastes yummy added to lots of foods.

Many of you probably have a recipe to this already, and mine won’t be a lot different than the thousand others out there on the Web. I’ve been craving this lately, maybe because we’re coming out of a long, dark winter, and fresh vegetables sound extra yummy to me right now.

Pico de Gallo (PEE-ko-day-GUY-o)

6 small, very ripe tomatoes, chopped (I like Roma)

1/2 medium purple onion, chopped very fine

the juice of one fresh, medium-sized lime

2-3 small, fresh jalapeno peppers, seeded, chopped very fine

1-2 cups fresh cilantro leaves, coarse chopped

1 small clove fresh garlic, finely minced

Kosher salt, to taste

Several grinds of fresh ground black pepper

So, you just stir all these ingredients together. That’s the recipe. Keep this stored in the fridge in a lidded container, but it might not last long – it doesn’t in our house. If you have children who might not appreciate the crunch, you can put this in a food processor and just pulse it a few times.

Consider serving huge spoonfuls of Pico de Gallo on baked potatoes, homemade tacos or burritos, nachos, scrambled eggs, open-faced sandwiches, on homemade pizzas, or Mexican casseroles. It’s really tasty as a simple dip, or added to ripe, mashed avocados, to make a fancy and healthy guacamole.

Es muy delicioso!