Tuesday, April 15, 2008
After dropping off my tax returns yesterday, at the very local post office on the island, I asked the postmistress, who is an avid enough gardener to keep her own greenhouse, how her seedlings were coming along. She replied, and then asked me if I'd gotten my spinach in yet. Spinach requires longer cool weather than I usually get after the ground has dried to workability, so I'd forgotten completely that in this unusual dry spring I could plant spinach now. So after doing a few chores I got spinach seeds out planted about ten feet of row. As a child I never cared for the taste. My mother religiously purchased it, and prepared it for the family, along with liver and onions, another food I wrinkled my nose at. I came to find out, as an adult, that she didn't like the taste either; but she had read in a nutrition guide that these were good for health. Well, she lived until 92, so she must have known something. But I was convinced that Popeye was a plot to convince youngsters to eat spinach. Today I enjoy the taste, raw in salads or steamed lightly. There's something almost human in the shape of the spinach plant, with its upright stem and many long arms. Cut and come again.