laugardagur, apríl 01, 2006

fennel

I always walk to the end of the market with my bag slung crosswise and empty over my back and only buy the week's vegetables on the return trip through the stalls. Today, at the far end, I buy a hefty bundle of fennel, stuff it bulbs-down into my bag, and twist the bag around before continuing. All the way past the other stalls I can feel the long stalks of fennel behind me, sweeping back and forth as I walk. With each step, my hips shift, and the green fronds sweep to one side, invisible to me though I can feel their motion through my bones of my lower back, and with the next step they sweep back.

It is probably all for the best that a perfect stranger stops me and asks how I intend to cook all that fennel (braising the bulbs, I think, and tossing the greens in to a pesto, I say), or else by the time I reached home I would have been entirely convinced that I was a giant anteater.

2 ummæli:

V/B sagði...

So you *really* are not an anteater?!

tristan sagði...

bravo ! bravo !

 
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