Ah, the plethora of springtime opportunities in a small Southern town!
We had a new farmers' market kickoff today, so I went up to stroll around a bit. I even took my "look, I'm green!" shoulder bag with me. That turned out to be a wise move - I left with a number of locally-grown items, some of which (like a butterfly bush) wouldn't fit in the bag in the first place. I also scored a couple of lovely pork chops - that was unexpected. I was set for veggies and fruit, but not protein.
By the way - I may have any number of sins staining my soul, but I'm no hypocrite. I like meat and yes, I know exactly where it comes from and that little piggie was probably gamboling around a pen just a few days ago. I'm okay with that for you see, when I was but a fledgling li'l Mockingbird, my father raised hogs and Angus cattle so I got the whole "circle of life" thing at quite a young age. That'll happen when you both bury kittens and help a colt get born.
But back to the topic at hand.
I love farmers' markets. I like talking with the folks who grew what I'm going to be planting, cooking, or otherwise enjoying. I like petting the dogs who are checking everything out with their owners - Spooky stayed home today - she's in the final stages of planning a climb up the east face of K2 and couldn't really be disturbed, even for locally-grown Swiss chard. And this was also the day of an arts festival, so I got to browse through painted gourd birdhouses and listen to hammered dulcimer music.
Then, it was off to the Y for another attempt at introducing exercise into my life. I'm getting better at it, thanks to friends who expect me to show up. Today, we tried something new - exercise through belly dancing. Tremendous fun - hip shot, figure 8, kick, and circle! Again. Now add the arms! And s-t-r-e-t-c-h and kick. Now the hips again! While I'm in no danger of being mistaken for a transplanted desert flower, I did at least okay.
But I want finger cymbals!