20 October 2009

The Swell Season

There is a local farmer's market near me. It starts in the summer when it's full of hot sun and fresh fruit. But now it's full of cool mornings and harvest vegetables. I went by myself over the weekend to observe the last market of the year. Because regardless of the particular spoils, there is so much to see and touch.

I looked quite a bit at the different shapes and sizes of squash and gourds. I like a group of pumpkins sitting up straight, occasionally lean this way or that way. I like the twisty-turvey necks of squash and their many colors and patterns. I like when I find witch-like warts or smooth, dull surfaces.

I tasted all of the sweets I could find (brownies, especially) and the last of the season's fruits. I got a bear full of honey to go with the fresh scones Algernon makes on Sunday mornings.

I listened to musicians, some playing loud music and some playing quiet music. I remembered that I tried the accordion once (though it proved unsuccessful without fingers). This musician —Keith Lewis — has proved it very successful (and I'm sure the fingers help).

I smelled the fresh flowers taking in deep breaths of their rich autumn scents. I left with two bunches to give to Penny and Yvette.

I noticed the colorful leaves above me and the friendly beasts below me and decided I will miss the farmer's market through the winter. But it will be back. And in the meantime, there will be holidays and sledding and snow. I like all the seasons in their time.

I'm going to eat a carrot.

You should eat a carrot, too.




  1. Red...you make me want to hop on a plane and fly out to the great farmers market...we don't have them around here!

  2. Hey Red Fred, you make us want to go to the Farmer'r Market with you some day. It would be so cool. Our Uncle Dallas lives right by the market. By any chance do you know him? Scarlett