Farmer's Market

Going to the Farmer's Market on Saturday morning always puts me in a sunny mood. Even if I don't buy much and merely check out the produce and the crowd, which is always full of people I know from various places in my life, it does me good to smell the sweet fruit and herbs, to check out other sorts of wares, and to hear the offerings of musicians of different kinds at opposite ends of the market. The country western guy, who proclaimed a few weeks ago with a wry smile, "Hi! I'm Johnny Cash!" is gone now, and a more autumnal late sixties type chanteuse with long blonde hair and a reedy voice accompanies herself with a guitar. It's hard to hear her over the vigorous electric guitar of the kid down the row. His tip basket, which is quite capacious, is full of dollar bills, full to overflowing, yet he keeps going, heedless of this and of everything but the lick he plays with his whole body, not just his fingers.
All the usual sales people are there--the fish guy, and I stop and pick out a lovely piece of Hawaiian Opakapaka (sp?), a type of bass, and the fruit stand that has what are unquestionably the best pluots in town, though I have never actually laid out the $2.50 per pound and bought them. I keep promising myself I will. Today there was a new person, who for $10. per person, will throw a "garden party" at your house for you and up to 10 people where each person can make a miniature garden, complete with little figures, moss, a garden gate, etc. They are really wonderful. The plants are nice too, nothing that I've ever seen in a little dish garden before. For example, she had eggplant plants with fruit hanging from them in a metal bucket, where they looked like shade trees. Herbs played the role of willows. You can imagine what I mean, I'm sure.
I used to make dish gardens and give them away as gifts years ago. Generally, they were cactus and succulents, in a glass bowl with different colors of sand layered in. Sometimes I would make a design with a skewer, like birds flying or mountains. But these were much nicer than any of my efforts. I've never been much good at crafts or anything with my hands. This person is an artist.
It's my mom's birthday soon, but she really doesn't know it and doesn't care about plants. My dad does. So it will be better simply to take her to eat bbq chicken, which she loves, and let her get sauce all over herself. That will make her happiest, at this point. Besides that, I could get her a pair of shoes, but why bother? Her feet, covered with callouses, will hurt no matter how much we pay for them. I have bought her so many pairs of shoes, as you know, and still she complains with every step and all but one of them sit unworn. Like a small child, she's happiest with small things.