As hoped in my
13 for 2013, every second Saturday morning, after a lazy lie-in and a slow, hearty breakfast, we amble down the hill to our local
farmer's market. Flanked by coastal waters and a historic, far-reaching cemetery, we peruse stall after stall, collecting delicious morsels {those which aren't spreading their roots in our own backyard}, sampling tasty fruits {
marionberries are our new fave} and stockpiling homemade jams, chutneys and sauces {plus the occasional bunch of pretty blooms}. Sage is enthralled by the sights, smells and sounds - finding peace in the simplicity and gentle hum of our relaxed wanderings. Along the way we greet many we know, sharing small snippets of our time, our purchases and our lives. In the large cattle shed nearby, fast-paced calls and frequent hammer strikes signal the sale of covetable antique pieces sent to auction - many of which I view as "must-have's" - all of which are deemed "inappropriate" by Mr Sensible Husband. And each time we depart through the rusty, worn gates, we marvel at how great it feels - to support our local people, to know exactly where our food has come from... to have spent time together.
Tell me, do you have a local farmer's market? What's your one staple each time you visit? {Ours is tomato relish!}