Strawberries

Project Blog It

When I was a kid, I often wondered if eating fruit seeds would cause fruit trees to grow in my belly and pop out of my nose, ears, and mouth. This wonder actually started out of fear after accidentally eating an apple seed. I was taught not to eat apple cores and seeds. I, being a naive child, believed that we weren't supposed to eat the seeds because doing so was somehow dangerous, rather than the true fact that apple seeds simply aren't appetizing. On the school playground, I inadvertently swallowed an apple seed and proceeded to enter a mild state of panic thinking I had done something wrong. My classmates warned me that an apple tree would now grow from my belly.

This wonder about eating fruit seeds eventually became a mildly amusing joke--eating the seeds of anything would incite some comment about foliage sprouting forth from ones innards. I am not unique in such humor. It seems that jokes about plant life growing from within the human body are a collective cultural experience, something parents, aunts, and uncles tease children about.

I still occasionally joke about trees and plants growing from my body. I often eat the seeds of fruits, partly because I kind of like them, and partly because I'm too lazy to pick them out, watermelon being the prime example. I love watermelon. I don't like seedless watermelons. And so I eat the watermelon seeds, only passing up those that fall from the melon on their own.

To be honest, I sort of like the idea of plants growing from my ears and nose. How convenient would that be? Simple reach around to the back of my head and pick a ripe apple. If I timed my fruit consumption right, I could harvest various fruit crops throughout the year. When my apple limbs were finished producing, I could pick cantaloupes from the vines growing out of my belly button, and so on. Although, admittedly, it might be difficult to carry around those heavy watermelons.

Ultimately though, I know that fruit trees and vines do not, sadly, grow from the human body. Cat bodies, however, are another story entirely. A few weeks ago, I fed my sleek black cat some strawberry ice cream. This wasn't strawberry-flavored ice cream. It was the full-fledged, all natural, real deal, with fresh strawberries and lots of strawberry seeds. Kitty loved it, lapping up every drop and cleaning the saucer. It wasn't too long after he ate the ice cream though, that I noticed a change. He seemed to swell a bit, and he rolled about as if someone was tickling him from the inside. Within a few hours, I saw thin whitish curls emerging from his ears. I thought he had worms, but those curls soon turned a deep shade of green and unfurled into leaves that matched the green of his eyes. By morning, strawberries had sprouted from the vines, now wrapped about his neck, belly, and tail. A giant strawberry hung from each ear like a set of earrings, and a whole cluster dangled from the tip of his tail. My cat, rather than finding this situation disturbing, seemed delighted. He merely had to turn his head slightly to take a bite of the luscious strawberries that decorated his ears. By the time he'd finished one, another had grown in his place.

I have to say, his shiny black coat, the bright red of the glistening berries, and the deep green of the vines that match his eyes made a beautiful portrait. He looked like the quintessential cat peeking out from the bushes. The only difference is that he was now also the bush.

Kitty continues to produce berries and eat them with gusto. It's actually made my job as a pet owner easier because I no longer have to put food out for him. But I gotta tell ya, it sure would be nice if he'd share.




Please check the blogs listed on the right for companion pieces to this week's prompt.



Next week's prompt: What are the names of the seven other dwarfs?