Las Cruces NM 2019: Squash Body

Butternut squash. February 2019.

My photos of this butternut squash bottom do not satisfy me.

But not one to be wasteful, I will present them anyway because it is the essence of squash that does satisfy.

The butternut holds its seeds in its uterine space, cradling them in a sinewy net, swaddling them within thick, soft-strong flesh, finally enveloping them with a thin, sturdy shell.

Butternut squash. February 2019.

The butternut shell deflects crawling and flying marauders, too much cold and too much heat, too much rain and too little rain.

It cracks open to my knife.

I roast this butternut.

I eat its softened shell.
I eat its butterscotch flesh.
I eat its crunchy seeds, salted and shiny with sprayed oil.

All that I leave are strings of sinew and that hard nub which once connected my meal to her green matriarch, rooted in the earth.