Harvest Time

Twice a week, three or four of the local growers load up fruits and vegetables into the backs of their trucks and SUVs and assemble at the pavilion at the park, where they unload everything and make nice displays on the picnic tables, and hope that someone comes and buys. And people do come, and they do buy. In fact, you better get there early because someone just might buy all of what your mouth was watering for.


And here he is coming to buy, walking with purpose and doing his part to be green by bringing canvas bags to carry home the produce.

Indeed, he is walking so fast that I can't keep up.

This is Marguerite. Her husband was an amazing gardener. He was instrumental in organizing and starting the Farmers Market in our town. After he passed, she continued his legacy.

Were I one of those creative women in the household arts, I would have bought a few of these wonderful warty-looking gourds and made a lovely table arrangement. Alas, I am not, and I did not.

Now, the woman at the table next to her went to the trouble of making attractive strings of those little hot red peppers. I did not buy any of them either. Just one more thing to hang from a nail and collect dust.

Farmers work hard for their money, and I especially like the idea of buying directly from these local growers. I have to buy from them because we no longer have garden.

I used to make a garden. I used to worked very hard to get things to grow. We made raised beds. I hauled manure and composted it. I worked on the soil — we have very poor land here — and the work paid off. We did grow and enjoy. But, Richard has never met a tree he doesn’t like. Gradually trees sprang up and there was no more garden spot.

So aside from the tomatoes he grows in containers, during the summer months we depend on others for the fresh squash, eggplant, cucumbers, apples, pears, turnips, peppers....