Pure love.

Ain’t love grand?  I know when I think of romantic musings, I can think of nothing serving as a more apt metaphor, than the onion.  Love, like the onion, has many layers.  Sometimes it starts with the rough-skin outside, those guarded defenses one must break through to get to the richer, tasty depths below.  At first, the outer shell looks so harsh, and inedible, but once broached, one can find those outer bits were merely paper thin.  Peel one layer back, and then discover just that, yet another layer, ultimately more deep and complex the further in you go.  And then, of course, there are the tears.  For what is love, without the pain?  Or the tears of happiness, when love becomes all consuming, and enriching?  And, as the image suggest, the purple hearts (sparks) that fly when two onions discover each other for who they really are, and find the passion within.  Although I’ll refrain from mentioning the gendered standards as presented by this image (the hair bow is kinda cute).  Only because I’m pretty sure onions live without a gender bias, or gender at all.  At least I hope they do.  I’ll have to Google that.  (I’m not a biologist)

I have to give mad props to the packagers of onions.  They really know how to market their goods.  Whether it be the red variety, or the Spanish yellow, the producers of onions at home and abroad, tend to take great pride in their work, and have many fine displays for their produce.  I always look forward to seeing a new brand of onion come into the shop.  I suppose it all depends on the distributor.  We go for weeks on end with the same variety, and then out of no where, a new bag with new art.  I suppose I could go and research how all that works, but for now, I’m content with the samplings I got.  More to come.