Four lines of prose about: the trader.
It pains me to say this, but we'll be skipping tomorrow's farmers market, despite the likelihood that the weather will be the nicest it has been in a month in a half. We're between fruit (cherries are done and apricots are not quite ready to come off the trees) and don't have enough veggies and berries to make the trip worth it. Plus we're really behind on garden work.
On the plus side, this has been the most relaxing and enjoyable Friday night we've had since the markets started. Kat and I went out for dinner at a Greek restaurant we've been meaning to try since we moved here (food was good, service was not) and then went for a walk at the beach.
It's like summer is finally here or something.
The shop was crowded, but not unpleasantly so. A window had been opened and through it a welcome breeze entered to meander through items with mysterious and murky origins.