Red ripe tomatoes

This morning I walked over to the first of the summer's weekly farmer markets in downtown Emmaus. The parking lot of a local bank served as the site--sprouting dozens of tables and awnings to attract hundreds of produce shoppers, and the necessary kids and spastic dogs for the occasion. A farmer's market is rather natural in this part of Pennsylvania. One only has to drive (or bike) a mile in any direction from the town's squat stone city hall to encounter long wavy lines of split-rail fences and acres of pasture guarded by solid-looking silos. For the first time I'm living in a place that goes from city to rural and bypasses suburban. What a joy that is. I bought some tomatoes (violating a rule of mine to never eat tomatoes I don't grow - but they looked so delicious), kale, and soft Italian bread. Next week I'll buy my tomato seedlings there as I move into my new apartment and put in a small side garden.
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