It was a dreary weekend here in northwest Montana. The high yesterday was 53, I believe. It rained most of the day and the mountain near my apartment appeared dusted with a little snow (oh, it can’t be the end of summer yet, it just can’t be!). Rained and was chilly Saturday, too. Shawn came to town for the weekend and we did venture to the local farmers market. We bought celery, carrots and artichoke from our farmer friend Judy and pork chops and ground beef from the area’s longest-lived family-owned meat producer.
With the celery and carrots we made a delicious chicken and rice soup. When I cut the celery into little pieces for the soup, the smell filled the kitchen with its sharp smell. A prime example of why buying local food is the only way to go. Celery from the store tastes like nothing to me. This celery was vibrant. We modified the original recipe we found enough that I have no qualms calling it my own (it only called for one stalk of celery and one carrot — we put in four stalks and about seven carrots, but then we do like our veggies).
And we bought the lovely hydrangeas you see above, of course. I don’t think buying fresh flowers from the farmers market is a waste, but rather aiding local growers and adding beauty to my home. I make do with silk blooms during winter, when shipping flowers from exotic locales is indeed wasteful, but during the summer I revel in flowers. I make it a habit to buy them as often as possible at farmers markets. I love them, they intrigue the kitties. Win-win.
Now isn’t that lovely? I placed the hydrangeas in the ripple vase Shawn bought me at Crate and Barrel and placed it on top of the side table/drawers that we refinished a few months ago. Complemented by a framed print I found on etsy.com. Sometimes a person must find sunshine inside themselves, inside the home, when all is gray without.