A locavore's Independence Day independents

Today, on our way home from St. Paul, we made our first stop of the season at the local farmer's market. The vendor mix is a little different than last year, but I think it's the same cupcake lady. Prices seem a little higher than last year's. Folks were just about as friendly as they were then.

farmer's market cup cakes

Photo by J. Harrington

We had gone into The Cities this morning because my Better Half had a special order she wanted to pick up at our food co-op, plus she wanted to show me a "new" coffee shop she had discovered. While she was taking care of her business at the co-op, I tasted some delicious watermelon and organic pineapple samples. Then I needed a "fix" by visiting a local independent book store. (Amazon may cost a little less, but supporting local merchants means they're there when we need them to be.) After that, my budget took a hit since this time at the book store I bought three books, two by Wendell Berry and one of Gary Snyder's. Fortunately, the coffee was a treat the Better Half paid for, but later I paid for the farmer's market tomatoes so I'm not sure I even broke even. Traffic headed "up North" on I-35 made us glad we weren't in it. We took scenic side roads as much as possible.

July sunrise

Photo by J. Harrington

The Daughter Person and SIL (Son-In-Law) are off this afternoon and headed for fireworks this evening. I'm looking forward to reading some poetry after I get the sour dough rising for a couple of loaves of bread. All-in-all it's shaping up as a quiet but satisfying holiday weekend around here. If you don't stay up too late this evening, tomorrow morning holds the promise of another full orange-pink moon like this morning's and yesterday's. I think some of the moon't unusual coloration is due to the smoke from Canada's forest fires, but it could just be the angle of the sun's rays and reflections. Anyhow, it was nice to celebrate Independence Day by visiting and supporting local independent businesses. I hope you enjoy the holiday and celebrate your own local independents.

Fire Season

By James Galvin 

All the angels of Tie Siding were on fire.

                                                            The famous sky was gone.

Presumably the mountains were still there, invisible in haze.

                                                                                        OK,

there was only one angel, but she was a torch in the wind, beside

the wind-ripped American flag the post office flies.

                                                                            OK, she wasn't

literally on fire.

                           Maybe her angelic red hair made me think she was

ablaze as it flaunted the prairie and made a festival of itself.

                                                                                        There

was a fireworks stand nearby, entirely beside the point, as was the

Fourth of July.

                     It was really dry.

                                              It was fire season.

                                                                         It was the

wind festival, featuring an angel standing in it, letting her red hair

conflagrate history, reduce it to ash, bid it start anew, erase the sky

with atrocity's own smoke.

                                       She wore, besides her flame of hair,

blue jeans and a singlet.

                                    She was violent in the wind.

                                                                              I started

walking toward her.

                              I'm still walking toward her, no idea what to

say when I get there.