My potato has a hollow heart.

Seriously, was cutting up potatoes for dinner tonight and one of the homegrown monsters, upon being cut in half, exposed what looked like the shadowed remnant of a purple butterfly or possibly a fairy. It caught me off guard. I called to my husband, the farm boy who gets to jump in and explain all these strange elements of my life that I’ve never encountered before, me having been raised in the concrete paradise o’ southern California.20150906_210845

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