We were returning from the pool on a hot and lazy Sunday. The kind where smells of BBQ and sun tan lotion fill your nostrils leaving you all smiles. Our bellies begging for nourishment, replenishment from a long hard day of sun bathing and laughs.
We all had a dish to prepare, mine, roasted baby red and purple potatoes with fresh dill and thyme drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with dirty salt plus a big, fresh, green salad brimming with summer gifts of cucumbers, tomatoes, fresh mint, and basil.
As I chopped the colorful potatoes, I couldn’t help but to pick up a purple one and stare, an intentful stare none-the-less. Full on blank looking stare for a good minute. Now, I realize how ridiculous that probably looked. However in that minute that seemed like a moment, the only thing I was doing was absorbing the beautiful color with my eyes, allowing the vibrant purple to run into my body, doing I don’t know what, but it was amazing. As I placed the potato back down on the cutting board, chopping became a meditative act of appreciation, for both the potato and my sun sitting friends. In that moment I felt so much gratitude for the nourishment of both that it spilled out of my hands… right into the potatoes! My dirty little secret? I never cleaned it up!
To this day, I swear that’s why they tasted so good.
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