The First Farmers' Market

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It was a sparse affair--the first and last markets always are--but it felt like finding a favorite t-shirt that you hadn't even realized was lost.  Something wonderful clicked into place, and all was once again right with our Saturday routine.

The Kid dropped some dollars for the guitar player.  I did the same when I saw big branches of forsythia for sale.  And we got a little spinach so that I could feel virtuous knowing that we bought at least one thing that we actually needed.

Something new this year, though--the Kid is old enough to help carry our purchases.  He proudly carted the forsythia--which was taller than him--on his lap as we strolled back to the car, much to the amusement of people we passed.