(no subject)

I just made my first trip of the year to the farm stand across the street from our apartment complex. It's still too early for much in the way of local produce - when I asked, the teenaged boy behind the counter said that the tomatoes came from Georgia - but it's properly small-grown, farm-ripened produce all the same, lacking supermarket vegetables' perfection of appearance. Bell peppers two for a dollar: dark green, yellow, or particolored, caught in the act of ripening. Sweet corn, its dizzying green summer scent rising as I pull back the husk to check the kernels. Globe-shaped zucchini, a dollar for a quart basket. Deep red, unevenly shaped tomatoes, soft and yielding to the touch. Everything on this table a dollar: quart baskets of pickling cucumbers and baby potatoes and baby crookneck squash, alongside a few melons. The walls are lined with gleaming jars of jam and pickled vegetables.

I sliced one of the tomatoes, sprinkled it with salt, and ate it for lunch, the juices dripping down my hand. For dinner tomorrow, I believe I'll hollow out the round zucchini, dice and season the insides, and stuff them back in along with sauteed mushrooms, rice, and parmesan cheese. Then I'll bake them until they're just golden, and have myself another sliced tomato alongside.

I love summer.