Farmers' Market Saturday Morning

I filled in briefly Saturday at the Midtown Farmer’s Market.

If all commerce were like this, we wouldn’t ever worry about “th' stupid economy.” Midtown is a big parking lot full of local food, crafts, music, and information, rockin' out every Saturday morning and Tuesday afternoon, May-October. You’ve got Hmong families and fresh-faced hippie-looking youngsters making their tables groan beneath just picked-veggies. Also farmers from nearby pasture lands, with grass-fed meat; artisan bakers and other local gustatory value-adders (including the redoubtable Barsy’s Almonds); jewelers; soap makers; master gardeners with expert advice; a chef doing demos with seasonal garden produce...

What else? Local musicians trying out their chops, fair-trade, dark-roast coffee, crepes, roasted corn, tamales, boiled peanuts, Grateful Dead-flavored breakfasts from a big old purple school bus, flowers, canned stuff. Gee. I know I must be leaving somebody out, and I apologize. People go to the market to see their friends, and it’s a gas, gas, gas!