Farmer’s Markets

There is little sweeter that the simple pleasure of a farmer’s market. Here, the people gather. Here you may taste what you like, smell the aromas, caress the visual textures. It is like a vacation for the senses.

My roommate and I went to the farmer’s market this evening. The sun was setting. I particularly wanted to smell the flowers. It has been a long week, and Wednesday seems like the perfect day to sniff flowers. The flowers were perfect. We also found an exceptionally sweet cantaloupe. I admired a few succulents, daydreaming about when I have a garden and I can grow things like basil and cacti. Also tomatoes. The heirloom tomatoes were as big as a ripe pumpkin.

We briefly scanned other goods: crystal necklaces, beaded bracelets, jars of honey. I began wondering about what gifts I will buy for Christmas. And I thought about how different an artisan craft is: what you make with your own two hands is what you sell. What you sell is your only profit. No security of a salary, but utter freedom to come and go as you please.

We walked back to our car. The fog was settling in like a soft blanket on the ocean, and the color was fading to gray. I was excited about the warm bowl of soup I would prepare at home. My senses were satisfied. It had been a great Wednesday.


About wordlytraveler

I am a simply a girl with a head full of ideas. I love reading blogs. I love traveling. Cooking. The beach. Stuff Kids say. Speech Therapy. Running. Yoga. God. DIY Projects. Painting. Books, especially children's books. You will find all of this and more on my blog. I hope to write every week, at least September-May. I welcome your feedback. Thanks for reading!
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