258. What Some Rainbows Become

Yellow squash, red peppers, eggplant, green beans, blue potatoes. These are what some rainbows become after they ease their arcs, depart from mist and light, and return to ground. It is an unassuming, necessary pot of gold into which they transform. 

244. Beet Poet

Yes, I'm a beet poet. I don't look East, I don't look West. I look down at the ground and see a garden's wisdom and consider what be growing underneath the soil. Ate a lot of pickled beets growing up. I liked the way they stained the cottage cheese. I liked the circular slices. . . The flavor of beets want to bite the taste-buds, a wee nip. Unpretentious, beets proclaim peasant values and store red-purpose ink to use on underground radical pamphlets. Listen, beet poets know you have to be patient with beets, coax them into working as food, engage in collective bargaining. First, a removal of the frivolous tops, bourgeois status-markers. Next, a nice par-boiling. Let them cool at their pace. Then a gentle peeling. Finally roasting, maybe with a little olive oil and sea-salt. The taste is earthy, surprisingly complex. Your stomach will write a note to you saying "Thanks for the honest food.". . . Borscht is fun to make and more fun to serve, bright soup! The taste is not for the delicate-minded. The taste is fine for vodka-sipping old aunts who do not suffer fools at all. Do remember the dollop of sour cream. Do remember never to invade Russia, especially in Winter. . . As you slurp your borscht or crunch your roasted beets, read some paragraphs from a Russian novel or listen to something passionate by Tchaikovsky. Don't be afraid to tear off a hunk of dark Swedish rye bread and dunk it. We beet poets do not howl. We grumble. We listen to opinions and roll our eyes. We think of root vegetables, my friend, and you should, too. hans ostrom

66. Tomatoes

When home-grown tomatoes turn red, the gardener says, "Welcome. You've come a long way. How do you feel?"

The red tomatoes don't answer the gardener because they haven't heard anything and can't speak anyway. The gardener knows this.

Much of gardening concerns gesture, however. Much of gardening concerns waiting. Lots of gardening concerns work.

Sometimes a gardener needs to say something to something that's ripened, such as a tomato. Or a strawberry. Or a raspberry, right before the gardener plucks the raspberry, pops it into his or her mouth, tastes, and comes close to swooning. Gardeners tend not actually to swoon because stones and sharp edges always seem to be nearby. --Better to remain standing. Or seated.

Sometime a gardener just needs to stand there and talk to a red tomato, or to sit there and murmur like evening air, as birds make noise and bugs swarm.