A gardener in Risa Bear’s poem looks back on a season of growing beets. The seeds she planted directly in the ground refused to sprout, while the ones started in flats thrived—despite what the seed sellers predicted. After transplanting, gophers found nearly every root. Yet she isn’t bitter. A few half-eaten beets remain, and she gathers the greens for wilted salad; in winter she rediscovers the muddy, gopher-bitten roots and steams them, telling herself nothing is better. The poem creates a wry, homely mood, full of resignation and quiet pleasure. It is less about failure than about making do: the gardener accepts that her harvest is imperfect and savors what survived, “gopher bitten . . . or otherwise.” The tone is earthy, gently humorous, and grateful for what the world leaves behind.
Or Otherwise — Summary
Beets are a thing, she mused; all summer Every seed she'd planted out refused Every opportunity to sprout, but Those in flats thrived, just as those Seedsmen told her they would not. As for after they were transplanted, well! Rare was the beet that was not found by gophers.
Even so, some were left not quite finished As the gophers waddled away, and Those she was grateful for. She brought in Her greens; made wilted salad; then In winter came across again the muddy half-moons. Nothing is better than gifted beetroot steamed, Gopher bitten, she told herself, or otherwise.