The Journey of a Red Beet

At Ridge Lane farm, sometime during the summer, the farmers plant the red beets, dipping the seeds in the soil and beginning the waiting game. The sun comes up and the sun goes down, rain falls and soaks into the ground, the moon grows and hides again - for eight straight weeks. Then the farmers check the beets, tugging on the tops to check how far the “shoulders” are underground. Finding them suitable, the beets are harvested, stacked gracefully to preserve them until they reach their destination. 

The farmer checks his email and finds the total produce orders needed by Vintage Meadows. 322 items (including broccoli, cabbage, carrots, potatoes, red beets, and more) to be packaged, boxed, and set out to be picked up by a VM employee. As the red beets are being bagged and arranged in their box, one lone beet falls in and settles unassumingly in the bottom of the produce box. Other red mesh bags full of beets are thrown in on top of him, and darkness closes over him. 

When the Vintage Meadows truck pulls up, the diesel engine purring in the driveway, gloved hands grab the produce boxes, stacking them unceremoniously in the back of the trailer. Minutes later, the truck takes off to the next stop; the trailer’s load increases, taking on boxes of bread and crates of milk.

Arriving back at the farm, light filters through the produce boxes onto the hidden red beet. Once more, the trailer’s cargo is hoisted onto the loading dock, busy employees whisking the product to its appropriate place. The produce boxes are opened, and order fulfilling commences.

“This order needs two squash!” one voice calls out.

“Don’t forget the broccoli for this order,” another answers. 

“Uh oh,” someone else chimes in, reaching into the red beet box. “This extra beet must have fallen in.” 

“Well, just add it to another bag,” the first voice suggests. “I guess one bag will be a little fuller than the others!”

The loose red beet gets corralled into an open produce bag and jostled against his fellow beets. From there, into a red insulated bag they go, along with two dozen eggs, and a jar of sauerkraut. The red insulated bag gets a label with its final destination and consumer, Homer Glen, IL, and stacked on a tall cart with many others. Once the cart is full, an employee wheels it into the cooler to await the trip to Chicago the next morning. There it sits, and the automatic cooler light flickers off. Every twenty minutes or so, another cart laden with signature red cooler bags joins the first one. Then the darkness settles.

Around 1 a.m., the cooler door is yanked open. It’s time! The reefer backs up to the dock, and the ramp lowers. One by one, the carts are loaded and strapped to the truck wall. The little red beet is moved from one dark space to another, embarking on the next leg of his journey. An hour later, the truck is fully loaded and drives westbound down Indiana State Road 4. 

As the reefer and delivery driver arrive at different pickup locations, orders in their red cooler bags slowly disappear from the back of the truck. The loading and unloading system works efficiently and flawlessly, expertly honed over the years. Finally, the truck pulls into the driveway of the Homer Glen, IL host. The sun has just come up. As the red bags marked with the Homer Glen location are unloaded, the red beet and his order feel the warmth of the rising sun. The bags are carefully arranged in alphabetical order, the delivery driver taking care to stack them in the least precarious position. When everything is in order, the reefer rumbles away, leaving a neat array of red Vintage Meadows cooler bags for their buyers to come pick up. 

The hours tick by. Cars pull in and out of the driveway. The customers climb out, searching intently through the maze of labels to find the one with their name. Bags disappear one by one, until only the red beet’s bag is left. Minutes tick by. 10. 20. 30. Then a silver vehicle crunches over the gravel driveway and pulls up beside it. The passenger door opens and a figure gets out, opens the bag, transfers its contents into a small laundry basket, and puts it in the backseat. The red beet rattles down the final leg of its journey, jostling against the egg cartons. Once the car has arrived at an unassuming tan-sided house, the laundry basket is carried inside and set on the granite countertops. Someone speaks softly as she puts the groceries away.

“Two dozen eggs - fridge. Sauerkraut - yum! I wonder what all I can eat with this. And red beets. Oo! They sent an extra one this week! I guess we’ll eat these for dinner tonight. Hmm, I’ll have to look up a good red beet recipe on Pinterest.”