At the market

I don’t often make it to the Ballard Farmers’ Market until early afternoon. Today I arrived at 10 a.m., and was rewarded with a marvelous feast for the senses. I walked along the market stalls, enjoying the kaleidoscope of vibrant fresh produce and colorful summer clothing. A light breeze carried the scents of flowers and fruits, freshly baked bread and grilling oysters. I bought a glass of citrus-mint juice (a mint-infused tangerine-lemon blend, topped off with sparking water) from a woman who makes and sells bruschetta with produce from the market, and sipped it as I nibbled on a blueberry here, a bite of nectarine there. I fondled velvety apricots, cucumbers still gritty with sand, sleek squashes and taut-skinned but yielding tomatoes. Irish and Scottish tunes from a hammered dulcimer and guitar duo added to the music of laughter and happy conversation.

I brought home a box of those luscious apricots, sweetheart cherries (a very sweet black-red variety that’s new to me), slender green beans, tiny zucchini and golden pattypan squashes, tomatoes that smell like tomatoes, and several pounds of small, sweet, thin-skinned pickling cucumbers. All organic, all picked within the past day or two, all gorgeous.