Frost is comin'.
Welcome to fall!
Today is the traditional (almanac) date for the first frost of the season, but rain this morning and warmer temperatures tonight mean that we've been given a pass for at least a few more days. It's been a miserable year for gardening, with one exception: the beans have been insane. I don't know what to do with all these beans! I've been picking and freezing as much as I can. I just wish I knew what I did differently this year so I can try to repeat it next year.
We've been going to the farmers' market almost every weekend, since there are only a few weekends left in which to enjoy the bounty. (I think the weekend of Thanksgiving is the last weekend, so only two more weekends left! D: Oh no!) plonq will be in Nanaimo next weekend, so I may do a quick trip down next Saturday by myself to get a dozen or so ears of corn to freeze. That worked out well last year, even if I was forced into it by an over-enthusiastic husband. ("What do you mean, you bought 26 ears of corn? There's only two of us!")
For the past few weekends, there has been a new vendor. It looks like he specializes in fall crops, which may explain why we haven't seen him before. His little corner has boxes of zucchini, butternut, spaghetti squash, onions, beets, potatoes, and crab apples. The produce looks different from any other at the market. Where most producers are selling clean produce like you would see in the grocery store, this man's produce is dirty. It's as though (and is very likely that) he just picked the food and tossed it in a box for the market. Nothing fancy here.
Everything is sold by weight. When you bring something up to the table in front of his truck's tailgate, he places it on the ancient scale. With one calloused finger he bumps the weight over on the arm until he's satisfied, does the math in his head and tells you what you owe. If you buy more than one thing, he jots down the first price, weighs the second and adds them up in his head. He makes change the "old" way: backwards. "Eight seventy-five. Nine dollars, ten dollars, twenty dollars." He pulls the coins out of an apron pocket, and counts out bills from a roll from his pocket.
He's old and gruff, but not rude. He answers your questions briefly, but doesn't spare time for pleasantries. And his little corner is always, always crowded.
I love it.
Today is the traditional (almanac) date for the first frost of the season, but rain this morning and warmer temperatures tonight mean that we've been given a pass for at least a few more days. It's been a miserable year for gardening, with one exception: the beans have been insane. I don't know what to do with all these beans! I've been picking and freezing as much as I can. I just wish I knew what I did differently this year so I can try to repeat it next year.
We've been going to the farmers' market almost every weekend, since there are only a few weekends left in which to enjoy the bounty. (I think the weekend of Thanksgiving is the last weekend, so only two more weekends left! D: Oh no!) plonq will be in Nanaimo next weekend, so I may do a quick trip down next Saturday by myself to get a dozen or so ears of corn to freeze. That worked out well last year, even if I was forced into it by an over-enthusiastic husband. ("What do you mean, you bought 26 ears of corn? There's only two of us!")
For the past few weekends, there has been a new vendor. It looks like he specializes in fall crops, which may explain why we haven't seen him before. His little corner has boxes of zucchini, butternut, spaghetti squash, onions, beets, potatoes, and crab apples. The produce looks different from any other at the market. Where most producers are selling clean produce like you would see in the grocery store, this man's produce is dirty. It's as though (and is very likely that) he just picked the food and tossed it in a box for the market. Nothing fancy here.
Everything is sold by weight. When you bring something up to the table in front of his truck's tailgate, he places it on the ancient scale. With one calloused finger he bumps the weight over on the arm until he's satisfied, does the math in his head and tells you what you owe. If you buy more than one thing, he jots down the first price, weighs the second and adds them up in his head. He makes change the "old" way: backwards. "Eight seventy-five. Nine dollars, ten dollars, twenty dollars." He pulls the coins out of an apron pocket, and counts out bills from a roll from his pocket.
He's old and gruff, but not rude. He answers your questions briefly, but doesn't spare time for pleasantries. And his little corner is always, always crowded.
I love it.