Some local farmers.

At the one farmer’s market in the one (college town) that I now live in, there’s this (older) (free-spirited) (vaguely biker) couple who sell “organic inspired” produce they grow themselves as a side hustle – she’s otherwise a cashier at a grocery store across town, and I suspect he mainly does something else, too – and I sometimes buy things from them.

And, one day we were chatting, and she was telling me how tired she was, and I asked why, and it turns out that they get up at 3am on market days, and because sometimes I stay up too late after my late job, I told her that last night a good novel was actually keeping me up and I stayed up way past my bedtime until like 3:30am, so when I was actually in bed and turning my light out last night, her and her partner were actually already up and getting ready for the day.

And, she thought that was something, as did I.

Another week they had a different kind of radish, these small rubber-banded bundles of what almost looked like little horseradishes.

“What are these?”, I was like.

“Icicle radishes,” she was like.

“So what are they like?”, I was like.

“Actually, we just started growing them, so I don’t know,” she was like.

“Hmmm,” I was like, and then, I added them to my pile of stuff that I was gathering and needed to pay for.

“I guess if you don’t see me next week, you’ll know what happened,” I was like.

And, at that, she just gave out this single smoke-strained laugh and was like, “Ha!”, and then she made a few big scooping play-motions towards the radish-pile, and was like, “Here, have more.”