I love the Saturday farmer's market--from the 6:30 am harvest, when the fog is still sagging over the fields, to the market itself, with its mix of earnest customers and those who couldn't tell you the difference between "heirloom" and "genetically modified." People mostly think I'm a college student and worry how I'm handling the workload this semester. Others greet me by name, asking about the harvests and my commute and plans for after the season. It's a mixed bag, for sure, but with enough redeeming material that I genuinely look forward to it--and the things I hear there--each week.
"That one doesn't have enough raisins. It isn't worth it."
-A woman who dismissed a 60-cent bread roll for its lack of raisin content.
[In an English accent:] "Why is it so DIFFicult to buy carrots?"
-One of a pair of women of a certain age--sisters, no doubt--upon learning they'd arrived too late for their favorite root veg.
"Why are you selling the tomatoes that the bugs ate?"
-A little boy, curling his lip at our heirloom tomatoes that were not at all nibbled at but definitely lumpy, warty, and the spitting image of a baboon butt. He opened the conversation by first saying, "Hi! I just saw a badger!"