Today, the plot was wrapped in a thick, quiet fog that swallowed the surrounding trees, giving the whole morning an eerie, peaceful stillness. My main aim for the visit was simply to carry on with weeding and clear at least one bed, but while I was there, I decided to harvest some of my rainbow carrots. The promise of a multicoloured yield is enough to make any gardener giddy, so I pulled on my gloves, grabbed my hand fork, and got to work gently teasing the roots up. The carrots were absolutely lovely – some of the cleanest roots I’ve managed to grow so far! There were brilliant, sunny yellows, creamy whites, and classic oranges. They look fantastic and are going to make a spectacular addition to a Sunday roast, but is it wrong that I’m actually disappointed not to have unearthed any hilariously deformed specimens? Where is the misshapen comedy value I’ve come to expect from homegrown veg?
However, as the harvest pile grew, I noticed a distinct lack of drama in the colour palette: where on earth were the purple ones? I kept looking – yellow, white, orange, yellow, orange, white. It was a perfectly lovely harvest, but it wasn’t quite the colourful mix the seed packet had promised me back in April. Determined not to be outsmarted by a root vegetable, I kept searching, and after a few minutes of rooting around the row, I finally struck purple treasure. It turns out nature really does have an excellent sense of humour.
Behold: the solitary purple carrot.
Calling it a “carrot” is a bit generous, considering it’s roughly the size of a matchstick. It leaves you wondering: did the purple seeds simply faint from heat stroke or did the packet just misbehave? Next year, I think I will grow a dedicated row of purple carrots, such as Purple Haze, to ensure no underground bullying goes on during germination. Either way, they’ll all taste brilliant in tomorrow’s dinner – micro-purple carrot included.
