by Marykate Smith Despres, Salem Depot
There is little on this earth that is quite so satisfying as knuckling down in the dirt and pulling out the carrot which is ready to come. Just a bit of resistance before the smaller roots release with an audible crackle you can feel through your fingertips, and the taproot slides out. Until this moment, the carrot has lived a subterranean life. A tiny seed that stretches itself in two directions in yogic form – root down, rise up – its leaves are tens of tiny hands reaching each finger out to the sun, soaking it in and sending it down to create a stronger and stronger base. The root, for its part, pushes out against the inside of the ground. Water is sought. More roots form. Little ones like the fins on a whale seemingly too small to steady, but they do. And if it were to have eyes, I believe the carrot would be blinded by the sun as it slipped from the earth, would meet its fate following the light.