Saturday, June 29, 2013
Oh, to be an artichoke plant
It seems if I had only been born as an artichoke plant, my wish to age beautifully would have been granted. If you neglect this plant past its prime and fail to harvest its fruit, it morphs into a beautiful deep purple blossom. It spends most of its life as an average-looking plant before reaching its peak, when it produces a pineapple-looking fruit that 'foodies' like to toss onto everything -- even pizza. I'd like to propose we save our pizzas and instead enjoy the beautiful purple flowers.
I've just recently learned about the artichoke's ability to transform as it ages, which implies my wisdom is still in the process of evolving, and my looks have not yet completely eroded. But alas, the end of the transformation is nearing for me. There is no purple flower in my future, only grey hair, wrinkles, and the shift of my center of gravity toward my belt. Oh, to be an artichoke plant.