Sunday at the Farmers Market

I don’t grow vegetables. What, but you’re a gardener? Nope. I have three tomato plants, one red, one purple, one black. That’s it, except for some perennial herbs and basil. Too labor intensive for me. Two words: farmers market.  These people are experts; it’s what they do, and they do it soooo well. I could never grow what they grow. Wandering around the farmers market on a Sunday morning is such a treat. All my senses were on overload today, and what a pleasure–the colors of flowers and vegetables, the feel of the fruit, the fragrance of the breads, specialty foods, and handmade soaps, the sounds of the vendors, Try this, Taste this, Sample this, and the musicians strumming their guitars and singing. There’s so much to take in. And I certainly wouldn’t be having this much fun in my own vegetable garden! Granted, I don’t get the personal gratification of picking fresh zucchini from the vine or digging up potatoes, but you know, I’ve gotten over that! I’d rather plant and pick flowers, build birdhouses, write a book, or create a wreath. Today, we needed only fresh corn on the cob and two onions.  We came home with those plus fresh-caught, handmade crab cakes and salmon cakes. Well, I wasn’t going to go out and catch the crab and salmon. And there they were, already made up and ready to pan fry tonight! But we did resist the barbecue, the breads, the raspberry bread pudding, the pastries, 3″ cookies, the succulent bowls, the honey, the herbal soaps, the handmade ravioli, the gourd birdhouses, the smoked salmon, and the cut flowers. I admire the family farmers; they are so dedicated and at one with the land. The children grow up helping out, too, and boy, are they good at answering questions and counting out change after a purchase. Farmers markets are a fabulous part of our American experience. Try one some Sunday, you’ll love it.

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About writersandy

Writer, Gardener, Crafter
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