Carrots are a humble food.

 

They make a good show above ground, with lacy greens like a fountain springing from brown earth.  But the part that feeds you is hidden away from marauding rabbits and misguided lawn mowers. 

I like that there are usually carrots in our vegetable crisper. They do not have the snazzy packaging of a resealable zip lock bag, and there is probably even some residual dirt, waiting to be scrubbed. 

 

But they are crunchy, and sweet, and do good things for my body if I let them. Eating them gives me keener eyesight, higher B-carotene levels, and antioxidants.  Even kids who wish I would bring them salt and vinegar potato chips while they play on the floor accept the offering of carrot sticks, and when I come back the bowl is empty. 

 

Falling in love was fun, I will admit, and as pretty as the carrot tops flirting in the breeze. But what keeps me alive, today, next year, is the part you cannot see. It is the taproot that reaches for the core, finding minerals where my eyes cannot even go and bringing them back to me as lunch.