a farmers hands

Her hands gently held my wrists. Feeling for my pulses, she was working out whether I would be having a baby girl or a boy. While her touch was gentle, and the contact and meaning behind the check I found fascinating, it was her hands that struck me the most.

A farmers hands.

I’m lucky enough to be able to get the majority of my vegetables straight from the source. No middle man, no super market. Just my lady with her stall, selling what she grows. I love this.

I love that I can choose what to buy, its spray free, and the taste doesn’t even come close to anything else I could buy at a regular chain supermarket.

The tomatoes may look a little gnarly, the lettuce still has some dirt on it, and the cucumbers sometimes curl around a small child’s wrist.

Perfection.

This is what I want. This is how I want to choose to eat. Knowing my money is going back directly to the person growing it and toiling the soil to fill my dinner plate. If I’m not sure how to cook with something I’ll ask. Purple carrots not in this week? She’ll try to bring me some next week. Having that contact with someone who produces such an important part of my family’s life is invaluable.

If more people supported farmers markets such as these, I think societies would change. How could they not?

You would have contact with the person that was producing a large proportion of your food. You would be eating healthier, a higher proportion of your diet coming from vegetables, rather than pre packaged food. Money would be spent and going directly to the local producer, knocking out that chubby middle man, and not to forget that social contact. That wonderful element of connecting with someone and talking to them about what they do. This is just to list a mere few wonderful positives on shopping like this. Buying your vegetables in a supermarket what are the positives? Convenience?

Maybe convenience is overrated…

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