Welcome, winged ones and those with fins; welcome, too, the pawed and bi-pedal. Mother Earth’s Bistro is opening a bit early this year, due to the enthusiasm of our head chef, Monsieur Sun, our prep chef, Madame Wind, and our sous chef, Mademoiselle Water.
The heady aroma from our kitchen? A little something we call “geosmin,” or earth smell; Je vous remercie de tout cœur. (Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.) It’s our own invention, created by the very active actinomycetes—already, on this day you like to call March 13th— busily breaking down the organic compounds in the soil, so the plants may feed, and you may feed on the plants, and we may all feed on each other. Mais oui! (But of course.)
It is the smell of our life cycle heated and released. Breathe deeply and join the party, for it’s over all too soon on this little sphere spinning wildly in space. C’est la vie; c’est la mort (Such is life; such is death): we are all coming and going, feeding and being fed.
Welcome, friends all, to the time and place for noticing our rebirth, discovering our symbiosis, and celebrating our interconnectedness. Dine to the music of our birdsong chorus and join the carbon-based dance on our lovely terrace, lit by a billion stars watching from afar and yearning to create such recipes of their own.
Prix fixe: You have only tell us: for what is it you hunger?
C’est parti! Joyeux printemps! (Here we go! Happy Spring!)
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