It gets to be a habit, this outdoor, Saturday morning, meet-and-greet market thing. After awhile going into a Kroger or a Food Lion to buy vegetables just doesn’t feel right. Just a little too antiseptic and corporate. Today I met a couple from McIntosh County (some 60 minutes to the south) who come up every week. Then I talked to a woman (who doesn’t have a computer, btw) about growing kiwis on a vine (“three females to a male”) and tossing a kumquat (which grow heartily here) into the garbage disposal every week to sweeten things up. Someone else convinced me we can grow beets, which is what I think I’ll plant today in the loamy soil I hand-sifted from my compost pile. Onward!
A boy and his collard greens
It’s pink. It’s random. It’s independent (it disappears, then it returns). Hard to draw; probably better at the hands of a fluid watercolorist. That’s about all I know about this lovely, transparent and very pink primrose. I transplanted it from a batch I spotted on West Louisville Road. It took me the longest time to remember the name until I got the p-p thing going, pink primrose. The blooms look fragile but they can take a beating — dipping temperatures, people walking on them, neglect). They usually bloom all over Boundary Street for the spring plant swap, which, this year, is Sat., April 20. Too many other things going on for the usual first Saturday in April date. People don’t seem to mind the delay, the borrowed time: “More time to pot stuff up.” I know the feeling.
The first primrose