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I may not live in a small town, but my goodness, sometimes it feels like I do.  Saturday morning saw me and the mom meeting up at my library’s plant sale.  So of course I knew everyone there, and snagged a lavender and rosemary and some kind of succulent and a nifty purple-ish green houseplant for the roommate’s birthday.  Oh, and a tomato, but that happened at the Waldorf school sale, across the way.  It was a regular plant sale extravaganza.  Now, time to sit back and see what all those random things in the garden turn into.  I’m 99% sure they’re not weeds, but beats me what they really are.  The “let things go to seed” method of gardening.

Sunday afternoon found me and the mom, again, at the farmer’s market.   It was the first day of the season, and we peered into every booth and examined every vegetable (okay, there weren’t many vegetables yet).  We got beets, cukes, a few gifts, renewable energy, local-ish pork sausage, and local sheep’s milk feta with herbs & olive oil.  Oh. My. God.  I’m looking forward to lunch so that I can spoon some of that squishy heaven over pasta.  All the cheese vendors were sample-happy, which was quite to my liking.  There was also a lamb stand, which I’ll have to scope out next time.  Of course, I ran into a few more coworkers and knew the musician performing.

I feel an itch to bake a crisp with last year’s frozen fruits, but I might need to lay my hands on some rhubarb first.  There are beets that need roasting, and cups of coffee that need drinking, and A Northern Light to read.  Not to mention two more stories to learn and a heap of dry cataloging theory articles to read.

*Robert G. Ingersoll – thanks, Quotationary!

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