Peel back time

The art of peeling vegetables can be a process of time travel.

Last Sunday I prepared part of our family meal by peeling the skin off some potatoes, an onion, and some carrots. I did this slowly, and with my entire concentration, so that I was fully in the present as I peeled. When I had finished peeling there was a scattering and tangle of orange carrot skin, brown potato peel, and purple onion skin.

As I contemplated this selection my mind rushed backwards in time, and I imagined for a moment the sun and rain and soil and compost that made these vegetables grow from tiny seeds to full size crops.

Then, I gathered up the skins and peel in two hands, and dropped the slightly damp mess into a small slop bucket that rested on my kitchen counter. The contents of this bucket would be scattered on top of a compost heap at the end of our garden.

It felt good to know that our dinner waste would be eaten by worms and microorganisms, so that by next spring I could spade this new compost into my vegetable patch, to enrich the ground and provide essential nutrients for a new generation of vegetables, that would end up being peeled, and then eaten by myself and my family in the future.

Image credit: Helen Penjam/flickr