(Written in Fall 2006)
I like to eat what the season brings to the market. I like to get food straight from the farmer. If the June rains washed away his winter plantings of brocolli and the deer ate his tomatoes, I’ll eat kale instead. Amie and I visit the Farmers’ Market every week. I like talking to the farmers and their apprentices, trying to imagine what their lives are like. I let them know my appreciation for their produce and their work.
I like the weather. I point out for Amie raindrops in a puddle, the warm sunlight on her skin, and the clouds in the sky – she always looks at them quizzically, a bit awed: what is she thinking? When the wind startles her, stealing her breath away, I cry: “de wind, Amie, het is de wind!” like it is a friend or a relative from afar, paying us a surprise visit. I can’t wait to show her the snow, how it dances. I have pointed out snow in picture books, and offered her the sign (fluttering fingers as your hands slowly zigzag down). I will be watching her reaction closely, the first time she sees snow.
I like shops that close on Saturdays and/or Sundays. They take time out for their families, for spirituality, what the heck: for themselves, their lives. No doubt they lose money, and I find it admirable that they value their personal lives more than the greenback. I think all shops in the States should close one day in the week, like most do in Europe. Then everyone gets a break: owners, employees, and consumers alike. It would be a day of rest and family, and we wouldn’t take products and producers for granted.