The beet is the most intense of vegetables…Only the beet departs the body the same color as it went in.
At birth we are red-faced, round, intense, pure. The crimson fire of the universal consciousness burns in us. Gradually however we are devoured by parents, gulped by schools, chewed up by peers, swallowed by social institutions, wolfed by bad habits, and gnawed by age; and by the time we have been digested cow style, in those six stomachs, we emerge a single disgusting shade of brown.
The lesson of the beet, then, is this: hold on to your divine blush, your innate rosy magic, or end up brown
(Tom Robbins, Jitterbug Perfume)
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I made beets this rainy fall weekend. It was a satisfying experience from start to finish. As the rain pattered on roof, the earthy smell made me feel earthy as I gently washed the round rough globes and tore away the beautiful fuchsia and green stems. More earth richness as they boiled, my kitchen a potent steamy cauldron. Along with the rain drops, golden leaves created patterns on skylight, floating in stillness against backdrop of pearl gray sky.
When the beets were done, so that a fork could gently slide through their denseness, I put them in a colander and turned the greens on to steam, intensifying those fuchsia stems to even wilder hue. The velvety beets slip right out of their satin jackets, luscious deep magenta flesh. The first bite, with a splash of olive oil and balsamic vinegar, and I am rooted. Full of vital root energy.
I want to become beetlike again. Regain my “divine blush”, my “innate rosy magic”. Infuse my life with color and richness, vitality and instensity—to my own very roots.
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a mayfly
taps the screen
warm beets slip their skins (Peggy Lyle, To Hear the Rain)