The prickly pears began their move from green to shiny burgundy a few weeks ago. Supposedly ripening for eating.
A friend lured me to taste some a while back. Too tart. Not ripe yet?
Other friends recently made jelly out of them. Swear they taste sort of tropical. ‘Sort of’ concerns me.
When I hear tropical the only p’s that come to mind are papaya and pineapple. Pineapples are sort of prickly. But not cactus prickly.
I’m uncomfortable marrying prickly with my food. I’ve tended to reserve prickly for people. Marrying it with cold. As opposed to warm and fuzzy.
Prickly paints people hard for me to embrace. So tart they make my lips purse. Leave stickers in my fingers. Should’ve worn gloves.
Thankfully I’m not prickly. So says Mr. Type A Hard Driving cactus boy who has to write “smile” on stickies to disperse his natural frown.
Ok. So maybe it takes a prickly to know a prickly? Maybe each of us is someone’s prickly?
Thank Jesus He owns cactus gloves.