Farmers’ markets bring out the best in people. Maybe it was the weather, I don’t know. It was one of those perfect August days: zero humidity (a rarity for coastal New England summers), zero clouds in the sky, mid 80’s… People move slower when content.

Drifting from stall to stall, we serpentined through the crowd, stopping to point out a particularly interesting vegetable or chat with an enterprising proprietor. 30 second interactions with queued patrons flowed naturally, yet mutual acknowledgement of its transience was a given. No one made a fuss about it. Intrigued by a slight ruddiness and tinge of dirt on the hands, I envied the farmers. Was that flicker in the eye that of joie de vivre or a salesman in a less-than-sporty attire? I was happy to keep it a mystery. Read More