The kids were excitedly donning their helmets as they raced impatiently around the yard. Emmy couldn't stay out of her "carriage". It was nine -no that would be ten- before Max got up. We rode a half mile down back streets over to the local highschool where, once a month, they have a farmers market. The day was gorgeous; blue skys, puffy clouds, a high of 70 and a cool breeze. Perfection. Or as close as we can get in Florida. It's days like this that make me long for more moderate climates where these pitifully few days we have down South stretch weeks long. But then we remeber that it usually snows in those places and how much we really actually do hate the cold.
The small turn out of last month's market left me sorely unprepared for this one. The small lawn of the highschool was packed with people, kids and pets. The number of booths grew, practically spilling into the street with local vendors. It was marvelous.
We got a nice bunch of organic veggies and fruits. A head of cabbage for making the sauerkraut in the Nourishing Traditions cookbook that should be here today. Crisp lettuce and perfectly red plum tomatos for a salad. A huge ripe papaya for Duncan's wool block issue. Heavenly organic oranges and local strawberries. We got fresh squeezed orange juice (that we watched the see-through machine squeeze into our cup, mystifying our techie kids) and real brick fired pizzas that were cooked in a portable handmade oven, mystifying me.
My bike trailer trunk was loaded with goodies as we headed home after loosing Emmy for about 5 minutes, alterting the band to make an announcement and being emotionally reunited with my precious wayward daughter. Loosing a kid for any amount of time is terrifing. My heart thumped in my stomach and nausea soured in my throat. It happens, though. Especially, in highly crowded places. A kid walks around a corner, across an asile in a busy place, or follows a new "friend" (meaning some other kid) away from you when your attention isn't laser beamed on them. They're not really "gone" but try and tell it to a parent's kick-drum beating heart. If it hasn't happened to you yet, it probably will at some point. Thankfully, it worked out positively today.
After getting home and gorging on oranges we set out for the yard. Rob "tilled" the beds I was having trouble clearing, using the motorized edger. I made the fourth, and last, bed frame. Now there are two four by eight foot beds, separated in the middle to make four 4x4' beds. Cordi and I bonded over weed pulling. She's my little garden girl. She loves the work, the dirt and the rewards of the harvest. We weeded and added more dirt to the bed, manure mixture and top soil. We planted two fruited pepper plants, seven sprouted romaine, and one lonely basil.
While I was working on the beds, Rob was putting together a wooden picnic table so we can eat outside more and enjoy the work we're doing in the yard (and bonus, not have to have the kids eating in the house for every meal). Maybe we can all fit on this table too so we can enjoy the same meal at the same time. Wouldn't that just be a thing.
We're ate pizza again for dinner, leftovers from our visit to Rob's aunt Saturday night on a new stoneware pizza pan. I've been drooling over switching out our teflon coated ones for the stoneware equivalents but the price is holding me back. What a wonderful woman for giving me a brand new one! We also were gifted her upright full-size freezer (see the big white rectangle on the porch in the photo with Rob and the table?) All that and I still uploaded photos from the visit and got in a few rounds of Mafia Wars. I'm excited with the days' happenings, thankful for the opportunities -and gifts- we've been given and optimistic after a bad day of worry.
*It's stupid and I hate it and it will take me until a week before the time changes again to get used to it...and change all the clocks in my surrounding area to the correct time.