farmers' market: first visit of my last summer
This is the last summer that I'll have weekly access to my beloved farmers' market. There's actually a farmers' market where I'm moving, and I'm sure that'll be fine, but - well, let's face it, it just won't be the biggest outdoor market in the midwest.
I got scolded at my favorite vegetable stand: "There you are! Where have you been for the last month?" (This question has been something of a theme for me this week.)
"At home writing my dissertation," I said.
"Oh my god are you done?"
"Well," I said, "not exactly. But close, I'm getting close."
Two of the women high-fived me over the spinach, and then one of them said "But that means you're leaving!" Which - yeah. Trying not to think about that.
I got ramps - ramps! - and some asparagus. I'm going to be out of town for most of the coming week, and I'm planning on taking some provisions with me so I can make a thank-you dinner for my hosts. I really wanted morels, but it's been so cool and damp I figured there weren't likely to be many until next week.
I picked up a sticky cinnamon roll from a new Amish vendor because my usual muffin stop was more than usually mobbed.
Ran into some of my union colleagues doing education about the new minimum wage controversy. Hung out with them for a while, just chatting and enjoying the sun, the day, the smells of coffee and cheese bread and rhubarb turnovers.
And then, around the corner and up the block a bit, the couple who sell herbs and raw honey had a big basket of morels. So I scored a beautiful quarter-pound after all, and a bunch of watercress as well; and then I had to get portobellos to go with the watercress.
Folks kept waving to me as I walked round the market: the goat cheese women, the pasta guy.
I am going to miss this piece of my life more than I can say.
I got scolded at my favorite vegetable stand: "There you are! Where have you been for the last month?" (This question has been something of a theme for me this week.)
"At home writing my dissertation," I said.
"Oh my god are you done?"
"Well," I said, "not exactly. But close, I'm getting close."
Two of the women high-fived me over the spinach, and then one of them said "But that means you're leaving!" Which - yeah. Trying not to think about that.
I got ramps - ramps! - and some asparagus. I'm going to be out of town for most of the coming week, and I'm planning on taking some provisions with me so I can make a thank-you dinner for my hosts. I really wanted morels, but it's been so cool and damp I figured there weren't likely to be many until next week.
I picked up a sticky cinnamon roll from a new Amish vendor because my usual muffin stop was more than usually mobbed.
Ran into some of my union colleagues doing education about the new minimum wage controversy. Hung out with them for a while, just chatting and enjoying the sun, the day, the smells of coffee and cheese bread and rhubarb turnovers.
And then, around the corner and up the block a bit, the couple who sell herbs and raw honey had a big basket of morels. So I scored a beautiful quarter-pound after all, and a bunch of watercress as well; and then I had to get portobellos to go with the watercress.
Folks kept waving to me as I walked round the market: the goat cheese women, the pasta guy.
I am going to miss this piece of my life more than I can say.