The first Farmer's Market I ever went to was in Pinetop, AZ and it was more of a lame craft fair, but somehow farmers, crafters, and quilters united to made it a combo selling frenzy. I bought nothing. It was the Sabbath. But I ate lots of the Kettle Corn everyone else purchased and it tasted sinfully delicious.
The next one was years later in New York. The grounds of the World Trade Center (pre-tragedy) during spring was like a carnival, minus the rides and plus better entertainment. Live bands would play during lunch time and people would take looooong lunch breaks and eat on the steps. You could buy anything and everything from people that had traveled from all over the place to sell their goods. It didn't matter if it was a deal or not, it was just such a welcome change to cold and concrete you wanted to support the lives of all these people bringing fresh, edible vegetation and color to the grey cement world of downtown Manhattan.
Today I went to the Danville Farmer's Market. I remembered how my favorite thing to see is jars of things lined up. I have this urge to run past the jars and run my hand across them like a kid running next to a chain link fence with a stick. I enjoyed all the samples, something I have not experienced in the past. The scent of strawberries and that kettle corn lingered in the air around the corner of every tent. I propose that when they close up shop at 2pm they should gather all the strawberries into a giant baby pool and let people get naked and roll around in them, squishing that sweet smell until it's melted into our pores. I'll even pay for the damaged goods myself.
I got, of course, zero fresh items of produce because why get produce at a farmer's market when you can get Jalapeno Chutney and Cherry Pie? I guess I somehow decided I needed green onions (?), but I have no idea why.
my goods: Pumpkin Paratha, Paratha Dip, Jalapeno Chutney, Chile and Lime Almonds, Hickory Smoked Almonds, She's My Cherry Pie, Kettle Korn, Green Onions.