Farmers Market

When I was a boy (some would suggest I was never anything but) my mother cooked mainly from scratch, and my parents shopped for fresh fruits and vegetables every Saturday at a nearby farmers market. You could get everything seasonally fresh, supplanted by imports such as citrus from Florida. Sometimes even, a kitten or a pup.

Alas, the Chene-Ferry Street Farmers Market in my hometown Detroit is no longer anything but an abondoned ruin.

But, word is the historic Eastern Market is a very thriving affair located in the city's main wholesale food distribution center near Downtown Detroit.

And, in New Jersey where I am currently residing, we shop the local Farmers Market most Saturdays in the growing season.

Besides fruit and produce at its freshest at good prices, I also shop for smiles. Also in abundance, as you can see. . .

Angels from Tabernacle, New Jersey
Jersey Tomato . . . Princess

"No squeezing the tomatoes!" (But, we're tempted.)

 Rockin' the Radish.

Dad's Best Helper.

Boyfriend's away at college. Life goes on.

 Undaunted by the cold weather.

It takes a tough guy to grow tender chive blossoms.

The "Dolly Parton" Tomato

  Chrysanthemum Queen

 He's smiling. Really.

The Great Jim Matarazzo of Matarazzo Farms