Saturday morning

By 10 in the morning I had visited two farmers’ markets (one to go still) and test driven an ancient car on the other side of town.

The latter activity only highlighted what I already know: buying a cheap and rarely to be used car is depressing, especially if you like the small and sassy cars that whiz through cities on the other side of the ocean. Big clunkers with cracked windshields, rusted body parts and what are dismissively referred to as “small dings” --- look awful. Barely holding it together. Sort of what I expect to see in a person who is at the point in life where every breath might be their last.

Still, life is about choices and if I want to keep chasing rainbows on various sides of the ocean, I must make do with the ugly vehicle that will, after all, remain mostly in the garage.

I could not get myself to plunk down the $900 on this one. We leave.


The markets are a more cheerful venture, even as I wish I would go back to waking up at 6 rather than at 4 in each of the mornings. My current schedule makes me feel by noon like I should be winding down for the day. Just when the rest of my household begins to really buzz.

But I do think that the real bounteous markets of August are no more. Some of the truck farmers are bringing in a good assortment still, but many vendors are limiting it to beans, a few herbs ad daikon radish.  (Daikon radish! Japan!)


 


Onions are getting smaller rather than larger. Tomatoes are now a big seller, but otherwise, the rich colors out there are mainly in the the flowers. Okay, and the peppers.











End the markets with a good coffee. You must. Here:





Then go home and catch up on sleep. Or read work papers. Or a little of both.