Today I met a friend for lunch at the Farmer's Market. It was a beautiful, warm day; a blue and golden caboose on a train of gray and gloomy. cubsgirl68 and I walked about the stalls and despite my better judgment, I bought a liter of strawberries, though it is early in the season when they can be hard, pale and bland.

But how could I resist? It was a glorious day and I wanted that taste of the season. I needed a burst of something scarlet and sweet and though it is still spring here, these Michigan berries smelled like summer; like being 16 and driving a convertible to the beach to meet your first lover.

Luckily, I was not disappointed as they were quite good. Perhaps they were not as perfect as those upcoming rubies of late June but they hit the spot and choosing them was a wonderful symbol for my work in the world right now. It has been a long, hard year and though spring has come - things are by no means resolved or easy. "Complicated" has become a catch phrase for me but I've decided to take a risk. I've decided to chose hope and sweetness. I've remembered that I don't have to swallow the bitter medicines being pushed at me; I don't have to dwell in depression, anger and fear - I don't have to meet everyone's expectations of me - I don't have to be liked by people.

yezida often reminds us that we are in process and it's a good thing that she does because it's something my thick skull has a hard time absorbing. I still want to be perfect. I still want to be liked. I still mourn the things I have lost on (and because of) my journey - though I do not regret them or it. I know that this path may become more and more isolating. But even when it's hard, even when I'm so scared that I just want to curl into a ball and disappear, I still have choice - and I can still choose sweetness.

And I do. Today, I choose sweetness, hope, and love. Today, I choose that which is beautiful, warm, ripe and delicious. With a shrug that eloquently proclaims "fuck it!" I move; I push against the grain. I stand out in the crowd and even alone, my berry-stained lips smile in triumph. I clutch this daring choice to me...I do not want to lose it in the chaos nor forget the tang of joy on my tongue.

Today was the first Farmer's Market in Daley Plaza. It was lovely to stroll through and take in the beautiful, young plants and the first produce of the season. The purple-tipped asparagus winked suggestively and a few early tomatoes made a surprise appearance. Last year the season got off to a poor start (with low temps, little sun and too much rain). This year seems much better; there appear to be some new vendors and all the tables were much more full.

So it begins...I will fill my backpack with canvas bags and each Thursday will march down to the plaza to get produce for our household. While we like to grow our own food, it will be quite a while before our yard will begin to yield much beyond greens. The sunshine will kiss me, luring out my freckles. The plaza fountain will sing like a thousand ladies rustling their silk skirts while The Picasso looks on cryptically. Though commuting home with pounds of produce on each arm is not always a thrill, it is well worth the joy of living a little closer to my values.

One of the best milestones of my year has come...now I begin counting days until the blueberries arrive. :)

To find a Chicago Farmer's Market near you click here. Folks outside Chicago can track markets through Local Harvest.

Since the Farmer's markets were closing for the year, I stocked up on my last two visits. Besides picking lots and lots of sweet, juicy apples (some of which I used to make this last weekend) and various varieties of winter squash, I also purchased an entire stalk of Brussels Sprouts.


The sprout tree, lounging chez moi

It was kind of an adventure getting the stalk home and I was amused (and saddened) by the number of people who stopped me to ask what it was; further proof of our disconnect with what we eat.

Since I really love these little cabbages I admired my stalk for a day (often stroking it lovingly) and then I cooked up almost half of the little green buds thinking "oh yummy! I'll have sprouts to eat all next week!".

Well I did have them...and more of them, and yet MORE of them. I ate them hot, I ate them cold - I ate them seasoned mild and bold. I ate them cut, I ate them whole...I ate them by the plate and bowl! (Apparently an over abundance of mini cabbages Seussifies one's brain).

I finished the last of them today and I must admit, I am done with them for a while. I cannot face the remaining buds which rest in our crisper.

Alas boys...it is off to the freezer with you!

This morning the train platform was covered with sugary frost. It is the first that I have noticed for the year. Upon smiling at its Fae glitter, I felt something shift in me as though a whisper slid by my ear; a soft “it’s coming”.

Later I walked over to the Farmer’s Market…the final one of the season. I feel sad to see them go, but also proud that I’ve visited the market every week (unless out of town) and that almost all of our produce has come from local, independent farmers. Also, I could not feel anything but joy there at the colors, smells and curves of harvest; the red, orange, golden roundness of gratitude and bounty. A canvas bag on my desk bulges with Honey Crisp apples from Michigan, with Illinois ruby sweet potatoes, butternut squash and grape tomatoes (my sweet madeleines of summer) and I feel blessed.



Subtle strains of autumn’s swan song are floating with me. I’ve been savoring fall’s more youthful aspects: those early vivid leaves, the crisp air balanced by the kiss of sun on one’s face and the tastes of cinnamon, apples and root vegetables. Today though I truly feel the hint of winter: the susurrant voices of dry leaves that skitter past quick feet, the clack of bare branches that reach for the moon, the warm puff and mist of my breath against the air.



Today I wear a silence on my skin, I feel Scorpio, Ana and Arrdu, Freya in her battle gear…but I do not feel fear or sadness. I feel gratitude for life and for the divine within and without. I am remembering my ancestors with love and longing.

I feel change coming, and I’m excited for it.

Today as I passed through the Farmers' market, I was spellbound by the brilliant purple and orange cauliflower. I know it's all a result of cross-breeding and we pesky humans messing with nature - but wow. You could have made edible jewelry fit for a queen out of this stuff. It was so pretty that I really wanted to buy some...but in the end settled for the plain ole' white variety (which was more affordable).

I have a potluck event next week (and you're all invited!) and I'm thinking I might have to splurge on a melange of bright brassica.

Mmmm...food art.