Winter Blues and Winter Roots
Stopping in front of root vegetables while grocery shopping and having thoughts. Stylized. Partly fictional.
Art by: Tara Hejazi // THE UNDERGROUND
If I had a car, I would not be carrying all that weight around. Coat so bulky my bag won’t sit on my shoulders. I have to readjust it with my hands every few steps, which means I have to take my hands out of my pockets, which means I can’t keep my hands warm despite the gloves. Gloves trap the heat inside after all; nothing they can do if it’s not here to begin with. Those bulky boots make me stomp when I want to tread. I leave a trail behind wherever I go. Footsteps when outside. Black water and bits of road salt inside. Evidence of my presence no matter what. Once inside, it’s too hot for the coat but I won’t take it off either. I would probably have more thoughts if I studied the laws of thermodynamics. I fear that would only discourage me further. These days, I don’t want to learn much anyway.
I stand in front of the salads that should give me the illusion of health, but the greenery is not appealing today. The leaves are all starting to wilt, whether they are in plastic bags, boxes, or simply on display. Some salad boxes have a layer of brown water at the bottom. I am scared of the leaves disintegrating if I touch them. No salads this time, I guess. Not even dressing could save them. Everything dies in the winter, even inside.
The rest of the produce section should give me other meal ideas. Anything to get more nutrients in, right? My conscience tells me to look at other stuff, because it has been said so many times that green equals healthy, whatever that means. I probably should not be thinking about who gets to define health in the middle of a Walmart or No Frills or Food Basics or whatever other supermarket chain I am forgetting. If I do, I will freeze and block the way and someone in a cart might have to manoeuvre their way around me as they curse me in their head. I do not need curses, so I keep moving.
I’ve never been much of a Root Veggie Girlie, but the winter makes them look more appetizing than they should be. Carrots, beets, onions, leeks, potatoes, ginger, turnips. All this food, originally buried. I wonder what was the reaction of the first people to pull them out of the earth. Were they elated? Confused? Disappointed? How much strength did it take to pull from the ground what was meant to stay in it?
When is a plant worth uprooting? How does one determine that its roots are worth more than the sum of its parts? So many questions I should not even be asking myself; the root vegetables are here already, ready to be picked by me.
Cooking with root vegetables is usually not the most pleasant experience; sometimes I can feel a layer of dirt on my hands long after having washed them. I end up washing them compulsively for the rest of the night. Potatoes are the worst offenders. Are potatoes roots or stems? Does it matter?
Then, because I am stuck inside on most days and spend way too much time scrolling on my phone, I think back to the video of Millie Bobby Brown munching on a carrot and saying “the dirtier the better” with an almost cartoonishly British look on her face. I can’t imagine enjoying a carrot that’s got more dirt on it than a potato. What’s it like to love the taste of the earth?
Is it soup season? Probably. Root vegetables are good for soup for the soul, aren’t they? Good to make something hearty. When I put the vegetables in plastic bags and put them in my bag, they might be overturned and stain the inside of my bag. Maybe I won’t eat tonight. I might get home and go to bed and stay there, very still. Still, I do the groceries. I try.
