I remember these vegetables. They weren’t piled in supermarket bins, limp and tired from their long trek from California. No, these came from local farms and were piled on trestle tables, bursting with vitality, by the farmers themselves, and sold in the open air.
Do you think they’re all in Florida right now, our local farmers? Or home reading seed catalogs by the kitchen lamp, looking out the window at our snowy Everests, and sighing?