To Market

Oh happy day!  Our farmers market is back.

Every year I imagine that I’ll be really devoted to shopping the market, buying all of our produce from friendly, local farmers.  Instead, each trip looks a little more like a visit to the carnival than an actual agricultural haul.  My children spend the time asking for popcorn, snow cones, and lemonade.  No one gets excited about the basil or the beautiful asparagus.  Well, except me.

But it’s still really fun.  I like farmers markets in much the same way that I like many other romanticized iconic ideas–like pen pals and tree houses and my record player.  They represent things that characters in storybooks do.  The farmers market is simple in a way that the big grocery store never can be.  Surprises pop up now and then, like the aqua colored chicken eggs and the dried apple slices with cayenne pepper!  Neighbors really do convene at the farmers market, and we happily chat with friends while our kids examine a cool (yet creepy) cicada.  Someone plays guitar and sings familiar songs behind us.  We go home with warm kettle corn (couldn’t resist), a big cup of lemonade, asparagus, and kale.

No, we don’t gather a family’s worth of local produce each Thursday, but we mark our calendars for another week and relish the simple fun that is always found at our farmers market.













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