The Heart

I'm grateful to have dated a variety of fellas on my way to wedded bliss. Among them, two were vegetarian. This stood starkly in (welcomed) contrast to the Hamburger Helper cuisine upon which I'd grown up.

One considered himself a vegetable evangelist. Beside him I savored many a delectable salad, dousing them with Bragg's or cold pressed extra virgin olive oil, talking of proteins and essential enzymes, and how superior our plant-based diet was to everyone else's.

It was with him, too, that I had my first "come to juicing moment" when the process made new to me the absolute beauty of veggies. The verdancy of kale pooled against it's pale partner cucumber. The sunniness of carrot juice bathed in the richness of beet's red.

Through the years my tastes in food and men could be grouped primarily as fickle. But my love for simple beauty of vegetables has never waned.