Every year, I eagerly await the opening of the farmers market near me. The winter can drag on around here, those seemingly endless days when eating locally and seasonally feels impossible, when beets and greens are the best you can do. The farmers market doesn’t open until late May, but that first Sunday when I can stroll down the street (I’m lucky enough to live just a block away) and see the vendors open for business, I feel a great sense of excitement and relief. Excitement, of course, about all the fresh food and the summer season ahead of me, but also relief, as though only this truly cements that the warm weather is here to stay (until fall, at least).
