A few crocus peek out from beneath the cool earth giving me the heads up that springtime is near. When February meets March, the air begins to warm and lovely greens are fresh at the local farmers markets.
My daughter Madelyn and I moved to Little Rock in the fall of 2009. It was the following spring that we discovered the glorious bounty of locally grown foods. She had recently turned 3, and one Saturday morning in March we visited two markets within the city.
Her long curls bounced over the back of her bright pink jacket as she skipped down the sidewalk toward the tent-covered farm stands. Stopping to ask a man if she could pet his yellow lab, Madelyn smiled like I had not seen her smile in months. Genuine happiness flowed through her small body, from head-to-toe, this little city girl finally seemed at home.
At our first stop, we tasted odd jelly combinations from the small glass sample jars that were lined up on the edge of the table. Ginger, lavender, lemon and thyme were listed in some of the names of the different jellies. Lemon Drop turned out to be my favorite.
The farmers seemed to be just as taken with Madelyn as she was with them. They took the time to talk with her and answer her questions, and one lady even gave her a few herbs to take home and plant.
Between visits with the farm-stand vendors, Madelyn took slices of her morning to visit with the dogs who were leading their owners up and down the sidewalk, allowing them to stop from time to time to purchase a bag of radishes or spinach. There were big dogs and small dogs, they were all friendly and loved the attention Madelyn gave them.
By the time we reached the end of the line of covered stands, I knew this would turn into a Saturday morning ritual for this mother-daughter duo.
Several springs have come and gone since that first visit to the farmers market in 2010. It remains a Saturday morning tradition for us, and now that Madelyn is 7, she still looks forward to talking to the farmers, trying their fruits and vegetables and bringing fresh flowers home for our dining table. Some of the regular farmers know Madelyn now and seem to miss her when we don’t make it on a certain Saturday. They’ve even inspired her to plant her own garden. She saves seeds from apples, lemons, pumpkins and watermelons for future gardens.
I’m so thankful for the hour or two that we take on Saturday mornings to visit the farmers markets in the city.
Each year when springtime comes around, and the jonquils poke their lovely yellow heads out from beneath the soil, I know the redbuds, dogwoods and roses are not far behind. And I look forward to the abundance of fresh foods that Arkansas farmers bring to town for those of us who may live in the city but are still country girls at heart.