Squash/pumpkins
October 28 2009
Who was the first person to look at a large pumpkin and think, I want to carve a face in that odd, orange vegetable? It certainly does seem random that we carve pumpkins, but not hubbard squash for instance. Although, the hubbard and other winter squash have an impossibly tough skin and I feel there would be many missing digits. But, we don’t carve other vegetables. No bell squash faces, or beet jack o lanterns. The pumpkin does hollow out nicely and it large and thick. So it is suited for this activity, but why? Who wanted to make food a decoration? It’s like the colorful Indian corn or corn stalks. Did the pilgrims do this? I bet they used all the food to eat rather than decorate. We live in such a land of plenty that we can display this wealth in the form of a pumpkin we have no intention of eating, but will place on our doorsteps to show everyone that we could eat this if we wanted to, but we certainly don’t need to.
I’m trying to write pieces of flash fiction for different vegetables. So far I have a piece on the Beet. I was inspired by not only Tom Robbins novel Jitterbug perfume, but also my own essay about making borscht. I had beets on the brain and woke up one morning and wrote about a man who makes borscht, and then in the process of eating his stew, becomes a beet and then plants himself in the ground in the end, waiting to be eaten. Now, I’m trying to bring to life other vegetables but am having a hard become inspired. Robbins book was outlandish oddly written—I blame that for why I didn’t finish reading it. But it started out with “the beet is the most intense of vegetables” and I believed him. Combined with the fact that I had just picked some beets and was looking at borscht recipes I felt that all was working together for this piece to be born. But no other signs are coming together for other tubers, root vegetables or even fruit for that matter. I also need to cook more I think. I made chili recently, but for I opened a bunch of different cans of beans, through them in the crock pot with some stewed tomatoes and ground beef. It wasn’t very exciting. It tasted great, but didn’t inspire me to write. It nourished me bodily, but not imaginatively.
So back to square one.
I do still have a beet shriveling in my refridgerator. I had thought of writing a sequel or a continuation of the beet narrative, but thought against it after writing one sentence. It’s over. The obsession has ended. I need to move on. As do you. Good day.
