People who are actively living a country song may paraphrase country songs at will. It is written. Well, it’s written here anyway. Back to the turnip greens which, interestingly enough, sprouted from scattered seeds in the middle of a flood plain and grew to astronomical proportions.
Correction: the turnips grew to astronomical proportions and became a vegetable circus sideshow but the greens succumbed to hungry herds of deer.
My friend called and invited me to the random turnip patch because she a.) knows that I am utterly fascinated by the very idea of a random seed scatter producing gigantic root vegetables and b.) because she reads this website and wants to better the content. I drove out to their place just as soon as I could find my car keys.
True to her word, there were tons of turnips growing in the grassy flood plain below a tree stand. I readied my camera and prepared to take the greatest turnip picture of all time. The ultimate turnip picture was just on the other side of my lens.
Will, my friend’s son, tugged on the recently trimmed (by deer) green tops which is just what any boy would do upon finding himself in the midst of a random turnip plot. He grunted and gave mighty heave-hos. Just in case you were at all worried, I did tell him not to lift with his back. Then I told him to abandon the Turnip-of-Unusual-Size (name that movie reference I just butchered) and try one of the smaller ones.
He found success and clutched the turnip triumphantly while Molly, one of the family dogs, began wagging her stump of a tail. She crouched excitedly. Was it? Could it be? A toy for the tiny human to throw for her!
Except that once a turnip is thrown into a turnip patch, the odds of recovery are quite slim. Even the outstretched arms of a darling little boy could not procure the heartless turnip. Molly, the obsessive-compulsive fetching canine, soon abandoned all hope of finding her new toy. Not wanting the fetching game to end, she located a stunt double for the turnip.
Had she been born a Golden Retriever, the stick might have been attached to massive tree limb which she would have then faithfully lugged to her master. Instead, Molly found just the right size stick which was quickly coated in a gallon of slobber and deposited triumphantly (and expectantly) at my feet.
Having been told that turnips were also known as poor man’s apples, Will attempted to eat it just like an apple. Little boys are so adventurous! Of course, “poor man’s apples” taste nothing like apples.
Once you’ve got your tastebuds all set for apple flavor… turnip is a big disappointment. He promptly spit it out. The chunk he expectorated will likely take root and become another huge turnip.
On a warpath fueled by revenge, Will stomped through the turnip patch like Godzilla and tore up stubby turnip greens by the handful. With turnip greens raised above his head and dirt flying, he launched the shredded greens and they rained down like confetti.
Funny thing about confetti… one might begin throwing it in a foul mood but once it drifts cheerfully to the ground there is instant happiness and complete satisfaction.
Ahh! The good life!