I've been to many a farmer's market, but this was the first time I visited the one at Forest Hill Park. There were probably as many dogs as there were people. Darien bought some veggies, including some fresh asparagus for the homemade ravioli with walnut sauce she also picked up. Who knew that farmers grew pasta? Darien selected some herbs and a tomato plant for our garden. We ran into several people we know, including Bill-the-furniture maker and his wife. Darien spoke with a retired librarian, a former colleague, but couldn't remember her name. She needs to look more deeply into people's eyes.
As a reward for accompanying her, Darien bought me a coffee and scone. (Well, she was going to buy it for me, but she didn't have the right bills, so I ended up paying for it myself. I need to remember to get that money back.) We sat on a stone wall, but there seemed to be some sort of seepage, as my shorts were dripping wet after just a few moments. When I got home, I discovered the water bottle in my pocket was the real culprit, since I didn't have the top closed. I was roundly scolded.
Steady as she goes.
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