I got big, shiny gold stars from both Mother Nature and the Domestic Goddess yesterday. Z and I hopped up early to hit the Farmer’s Market. I wanted to take my new bike for a spin and was eager to go, but Z and Pete! the Wonder Pup were lagging behind. I chided them for dragging down our street, so they decided to show off by running the rest of the way. The race was on! And I only ran over their heels once or twice. Pete! thought about diving in the fountain on Hay Street, but then thought better of it once he saw the murky water. Who said that dog is dumb? In our eagerness, we arrived at the farmer’s market early and had to wait 10 minutes for the bell to ring. In the name of all that is holy and fair, the market doesn’t allow any of the farmers to sell goods before the bell rings at 9:00 am. It’s a nice concept and I’m in total agreement with it in October. Not so much in the blazing June sun. I already had our standard Carolina Grown order on it’s way, so I didn’t need much from the market. I picked up corn on the cob for Z, green peppers, kale, potatoes and a great bunch of cut flowers. The family that sells the cut flowers also sells homemade soap and baked goods, along with a few vegetables (probably from a back yard garden rather than a farm). Seriously, these are the most gorgeous flowers. She sells a large bunch for $5.00. All she asks is that you bring the vase back the following week so it can be used again. They are probably my favorite stand because they are such nice people (in a market full of nice people).
We trudged [OK, I trudged, Z and Pete! ran] back up the hill to the house, dropped of the bike, the dog and the veggies and took off for the rain barrel and compost machine sale. Hey, never let it be said that we don’t know how to have a good time. Z was pretty sure he was walking straight into a eco-terrorist plot but was willing to take the chance to buy a compost machine for kitchen scraps. So maybe I had a slight mishap with the garbage disposal the other day. And maybe I put a lemon down the disposal and jammed it. A whole lemon. Seemed mushy to me. In all fairness, all Z had to do to repair the disposal was fish the lemon out and push the reset button on the bottom of the unit, but from his reaction you would think I had shot his favorite dog. He spent hours muttering, “I can’t believe you did that — a whole lemon?!” Best not to tell him about how I got rid of a watermelon last summer.
While Z was hooking up the rain barrel in the back yard, I decided I had enough of our scary rose bush in the front yard. Many folks have advocated for the life of this rose bush and I had granted clemency against my better judgment. It was the last holdout from the overgrown, mangled mess that we inherited when we bought the house. Taking it down felt good. It was way easier than I thought it would be — couple sharp clips toward the base and a mighty jerk and the bush came tumbling down into the yard on top of me. The thorns took their best shot, but it was worth it. The bush did shade our dining room window against the evening sun — and that will be sorely missed — but I think the yard looks considerably better. Wish I had followed my instincts and took it down years ago.