Savoring Traditions

While this may surprise some of you, I’m a fan of traditions.
I like the order.  The dependency.  The comfort it brings.

As the past few springs and summers have gone, I have regularly found myself at Farmer’s Markets.  But this has developed into a regular occurence.  One that I have grown to look forward to for many reasons.

I like finding my food.  (Granted, I realize the farmers put it on display right before you, but you have many booths that offer the same–so I have the choice)   However I believe this makes me a terrible person to accompany to the Market.
I jump out of the car—and make a swoop through the entire thing, making careful note of what I see where, often I have to double back once I’ve made a decision.  And when I’m in need of tomatoes I’m terrible at chit-chat.  I’m on a mission.(My own spin on the hunting and gathering if you will)

I love the familiarity.  While I don’t know a single farmer’s name…I know their faces, their voices, and the way they will proudly tell you of their harvests.  I am thankful to know my food was cared for by these people.  Local farmers at that.  Ones who know how to cultivate these Arkansas fields to produce fruits, vegetables, herbs, honey and much more.

And I love the community.  There is a relaxed welcoming vibe.  People are smiling and chatting.  Talking to one another, not worried about schedules or appointments.  You could run into an acquaintance or friend.  Often people go in small gatherings.  This is the way that I go.  I’m lucky enough to be a weekly tag along.  The camaraderie  is built-in, and it provides a nice encouragement to roll out of bed and enjoy this excursion that has become a weekly highlight.

something that grounds me.  It reminds me of the simple things of life.  It gives me time  to once again reflect upon community friends and of course  ..food.

Advertisements

About Bec

I'm a gal who believes "Food is the Most Primitive form of Comfort" Have plenty of dishes to serve up, but one thing's for sure, I'm always
This entry was posted in friends, tradition. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s