Stop once in a while and take notice
I’ve never really slowed down enough to really pay attention to raspberries. Yes, I know they’re good, but I thought of myself as more of a strawberry kind of girl. Yesterday though, pints of them beckoned from the last farmer’s market of the season. They looked far better then the various apple varieties that the sparse table held.
I took a pint with me and washed a handful to eat at my desk. I ate them slowly, entranced by the tiny globules that would pop on your tongue and leak sweet, red juice. I picked another one up to admire the various shades of red in a single fruit. These tiny little gems ranged from a bright carmine to a sophisticated burgundy. I wondered whether the garish pinkish-red color that most bad clothing label as “raspberry” could even be seen in the small bunch that I held in my hand.
The minute seeds that find their way into the cracks and crevices of your back teeth remind me of strawberry seeds, but these are much easier to dislodge. And do people really notice the fine filaments growing on the outside of the fruit? I stared at the small, juice-filled bumps and giggled as I thought about their resemblance to taste buds on a lover’s tongue.
I ate them slowly, one by one, admiring the firmness that I felt inside my mouth from the carmine colored ones and the soft sugariness of the dark burgundy, almost black berries. As their numbers diminished, I saw the pinkish-red stains left on the white paper towel underneath.
This is my attempt at slowing down to appreciate the things we often take for granted. Raspberries just climbed up a few spaces in my list of favorite fruits.
I took a pint with me and washed a handful to eat at my desk. I ate them slowly, entranced by the tiny globules that would pop on your tongue and leak sweet, red juice. I picked another one up to admire the various shades of red in a single fruit. These tiny little gems ranged from a bright carmine to a sophisticated burgundy. I wondered whether the garish pinkish-red color that most bad clothing label as “raspberry” could even be seen in the small bunch that I held in my hand.
The minute seeds that find their way into the cracks and crevices of your back teeth remind me of strawberry seeds, but these are much easier to dislodge. And do people really notice the fine filaments growing on the outside of the fruit? I stared at the small, juice-filled bumps and giggled as I thought about their resemblance to taste buds on a lover’s tongue.
I ate them slowly, one by one, admiring the firmness that I felt inside my mouth from the carmine colored ones and the soft sugariness of the dark burgundy, almost black berries. As their numbers diminished, I saw the pinkish-red stains left on the white paper towel underneath.
This is my attempt at slowing down to appreciate the things we often take for granted. Raspberries just climbed up a few spaces in my list of favorite fruits.