"Horseradish" Grandmother would mutter
beneath her breath and I knew she was ruffled.
"That's Queer", which embarrassed me no end,
was another expletive.
Vinegar reminds me of her. One tablespoon,
milk became buttermilk, a dash more
cleaned the kettle, crystal, and oven.
Did wonders with laundry, mirrors, floors.
Come summer a preventive for swimmer's ear;
I hated the "tickle".
Slyly coaxing teaspoons of mineral oil
proved futile: my stubbornness my savior.
* * *
Smile to myself, carefully wasabi peas rinsed,
with vinegar no less, fiber and protein
a healthy "snack"; hide the Cheese Puff's
my kids (and their father) prefer.
Set a tall glass of water before them.
Complain I'm trying to kill them.
"Horseradish" I mutter beneath my breath.
Launch into a trip down memory lane:
plowing my way through drifts of snow
to catch the school bus (I did),
summer mornings spent weeding mother's
two acre vegetable garden (truth),
and the dreaded daily dose of mineral oil.
Swear I hear Grandmother say,
"That's Queer" ... allow the memory
of her raised eyebrow make me feel
a little guilty.
by Margaret Bednar, May 11, 2017
This was a hard challenge. I was to combine an odd phrase "self care wasabi peas" with the photograph above. I highlighted the words in the poem - you can see I took a bit of "artistic liberty" - it's the only way I could make this work...
This is linked with "The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Out of Standard - Photo Finish" These really are memories of my Grandmother. I don't serve wasabi peas BUT I am joined to a CSA and the vegetables are often the bane of my families existence - and my joy! I have found a number of ways to prepare the vegetables that they are willing to eat (and put those darn cheese puffs away).