Farmers’ Market

June 23, 2011 § 1 Comment

The Wilkes-Barre Farmers’ Market begins today!  And it’s raining.  Of course. 

Enough for a stall at the Market?

Ah well, we struggle on.  The Market is one of my favorite parts of working in downtown WB.   Being a gardener myself, I love meandering through the produce stalls, picking out fresh fruits.  (I leave the veggie-buying up to my mother.)  Last year, I bought a bag of plums for two dollars and had them with my lunch every day for a week.  They were delicious.  I’ve had strawberries, peaches, blueberries, etc.  There are plenty of other options at the Market too.  There’s a woman who makes all different kinds of soups and gazpacho.  There are a few stands with baked goods like a variety of breads, pies, and cookies.  I bought a pumpkin pie last year and that was the spark behind my bet with Danny that I couldn’t eat a whole pumpkin pie in two hours.  I didn’t.  On case you’re wondering.  I THINK I could have, but I didn’t.  I decided it was better to savor my pie instead of cramming it all in like a glutton.  I ate half of it before I reached that decision, though.  Maybe the first half had something to do with saving the second half.  It was a delicious pie, though!  Highly recommend it. 

There are also lots of (inevitable, yet always delicious) sausage and pepper stands, potato pancake stands, chicken finger and french fry stands, pierogies, popcorn, cheesesteaks, gyros, pizza (lots and lots of pizza), lemonade, soda, and ice cream stands.  There is one stall completely filled with candy.  Last year, I bought a huge bag of Swedish fish.  I don’t know what makes Swedish fish so good, but sign me up for honorary citizenship!  If I could cast my line into a lake and pull out one of those on a hook, I’d settle down there forever.  (Despite the fact that reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo terrified me so horribly.  Seriously, that book is why I bought Mace.) 

There is always a stand at the Market that sells sunflowers!  Big, beautiful, blooming sunflowers.  I bought a few and arranged them at Danny’s house last summer.  I think they’re still on the kitchen table.  Not blooming anymore though.  Have I ever mentioned the traumatic sunflower experience I had one summer when I was about 14 or 15 years old?  I had some sunflower seeds and I planted them.  Three, to be precise.  All three of them sprouted but only one lived to be taller than two inches.  This one healthy sunflower was my newly-into-gardening pride and joy.  I watered it every day, and checked on it so often I’m surprised it didn’t die just from the attention.  When it was about 8 inches off the ground, I received a tragic blow.  My Dad thought it was a weed and weed-whacked it.  I was eating a raspberry danish at the kitchen table when it happened.  I still remember that danish.  It crumbled to dust in my mouth when I looked out the kitchen window and realized what had been done.  Irrepairable damage.  I cried over that poor sunflower.  I bawled.  I didn’t hold it together like I did a few years later when Dad accidentally mowed over my strawberry plants.  (He doesn’t have a green thumb.  Also, how we’re still speaking is a mystery to me, when I re-read these past few sentences.)  In gardening though, as in life, you replant and grow again after every setback.  I just take my tractor another round, and pull the plow across the ground, and send up another prayer- oh wait.  Sorry.  That’s a Jason Aldean song.  I don’t even have a tractor.

So come to the Farmers’ Market every Thursday on Public Square if you’re around!  Support the local farms!  See ya there.

Me and the Peril of Plants, the Scourge of Seedlings, the Whacker of NOT-Weeds: my loving Father


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