If there is anything more fun than going to the Farmer's Market in Franklin, I haven't done it yet.
The whole thing is a sweet adventure: Driving down Franklin Road lushly-lined with trees, wild flowers and shrubs (wishing I had been in Tennessee long enough to own one of the older houses fronting Franklin); walking into the Market and seeing the first booth (Frisky Berry) selling cafe lattes; then browsing among the wonderful fruit, vegetables, homemade soaps, honey, fresh meat, eggs and milk, and baked goods of all kinds. So many colors abound: the beautiful soft purple of the eggplant, the various reds of the Pink Lady and Heirloom tomatoes, the golden cantelopes, and green corn--plus the gorgeous fresh flowers for sale (some of the biggest sunflowers I have ever seen--and I am from Texas); and people watching--some with leashed dogs, sun hats, bib overalls, and city ladies dressed too formally. The bluegrass band adds sound as the hubbub grows with the crowd. Then taking my treasures home, cooking the fresh squash (y ellow fingerlings with a green end) and virtuously eating them with salted tomatoes. Yum, yum. Fresh peaches for dessert too. What a morning! Wish Sam could be here to share it with me--on the other hand, if he were here, we would probably among the fruit and vegetable sellers. I prefer to be a customer.