These last couple of days have felt like summer. Temps rising into the high 80s, cloudless deep blue skies, lengthening days and so much time at home–it’s hard to believe we are still in April. And we came home from the grocery store with an artichoke yesterday; a huge, round, green globe that ended up as part of our dinner tonight…and the subject of today’s poem.
In the Artichoke Scraps…
In the purple papery leaves
and I remember racing through the sprinklers
screaming as the cold droplets landed on warm skin
laughing with my sister
as we ran back and forth across the lawn
In the salty butter
I taste home
dinner like clockwork at 5
our family of 4 gathered around the dinner table
to eat and argue
mediated by dad and the dictionary
In the sharp spines
a fortress is present
circle the wagons
with our hearts, soft and tender, at the center
closing tightly when necessary
In the leaves, the curves, the smells, and the taste
of an artichoke
all wrapped up in a thistle
I love how you used the artichoke as a springboard into your childhood and evoked it with such wonderful details. A particular favorite is the idea of dinner mediated by your dad and the dictionary. That sounds like a moment to dig into a bit more!
On a side note, I don’t think I’ve had artichoke (except in dip) more than once or twice in my life. Any cooking recommendations?
We just boil ours with some olive oil and garlic in the water. The dip them in melted butter. (They’re also good cold dipped in mayonnaise). Be sure to savor the heart—it’s really the best part! My husband, who is originally from MA had never eaten artichokes before he met me. Maybe they’re more prevalent in CA. Thanks for your comments. 30 poems (or more) is definitely a challenge. I have 57 consecutive blogging days under my belt (with the slices plus the poems). But then again, maybe I’m on a roll! 😉
Oh–and your photos are especially fabulous!