At the Farmer’s Market

Indira Ganesan, Late Market, Last Year, 2013.

After the orgy of capitalist spending in my last post, I went to the local Farmer’s Market for the first time this season. Old friends said hello, and we exchanged stories of surviving the harsh, harsh winter, which now seems a blur of sleet and snow. I picked up a Thai basil simply because it’s scent was transportive, and later some kale and sugar snaps. Focaccia and biscotti, and a brownie because I was told no one was buying any oddly enough, and the situation seemed dire. As I was leaving, one favorite vendor called me over, and as if she were passing a secret code, handed me a small head of lettuce. Add olive oil and and salt, she said,  and you can have it for lunch. I did, tossing in a little torn focaccia and Parmesan. Delicious.


Thanks, Dana. I am enjoying your blog, too. The one about fairy rings was a little story!


Reading this made me want to go find a farmer’s market nearby. Hunger and my senses, set off by your scintillating words, struck. Very nice!


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