Essay: Leafy, Green and Married
It was leafy green and lay in my husband’s plate looking like a graduate of vegetable boot camp. He presented it to me on his twisted metal cafeteria fork. “What is this?”
I was surprised. Spinach in a salad carried the mystique of a slice of American cheese at the deli counter or a common nail in the hardware bin.
A week later, just before Passover, his botanical confusion returned. He asked, “By the way, what is the leafy green plant soaking in a glass of water in the refrigerator?”
