Wednesday, August 17, 2011

The castration of a carrot

Every morning after breakfast Siena and I like to go examine our garden to see what grew overnight. Inevitably, as we near the bed with the carrots, she asks if we can pull one up.  Can I get her to eat the carrots I lovingly prepare and serve her on her plate?  No way.  Apparently this in no way compares to the delight of unearthing a carrot, washing it off and gnawing away.  And so our carrots lie in wait for our morning walk.

I love my garden but am not really a gardener so I am never alarmed to discover that while some of our carrots come out frail and pinky-sized, others have grown so thick and deep that they break off in the soil when we pull, leaving a femur-sized nub for Siena to nibble.  She doesn't seem to mind.  Today, however, was a little weird even for Siena.  It was, for me, the giggle of my morning.

Here is what our garden had to offer us.

Yes, that's right.  I totally agree.  That's what I thought too.  Even Siena knew something was amiss with the first carrot (the one on the left) so at her insistence (and suppressing a giggle), I agreed to pull up another.  The second one is even better, don't you agree?  Ah Mother Nature, thanks for the chuckle. . .and the awkwardness that accompanied the necessary castration of my daughter's carrots.

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