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Fun (and Phobia) at the Farmers Market

You know it’s really summer when the Farmers Markets get up and running. Fresh produce, plants and flowers, baked goods, local artisans, a sense of community – is there anything better? I’m pretty sure the answer to that is no.

Yeah, yeah, I know, everywhere else the Farmers Markets start in MAY. But ours starts in June. This does kind of stink, but I’ll take a few weeks lopped off of the growing season in order to live in paradise. (As I typed that last sentence I looked out the window and it’s raining. Again. It’s rained for 2 weeks straight now. STOP! Just STOP IT already.)

So, Farmers Markets, growing seasons, paradise… oh, and kites. Yes, kites. There was a kite festival at the Farmers Market last week put on by the New York Kite Enthusiasts (NYKE) organization .

Have I ever mentioned to you how I kind of hate kites? No? You’re going to be learning a lot about my special brand of crazy this week, so stay tuned.

Anyway, kites – and balloons, for that matter (but only when they’re outside) – I don’t much care for. They make my heart go pitter-patter and not in a good way. It’s the whole “flying really high up with only a flimsy string keeping them attached to their terrestrial home” thing that gets me going. I’m anxious just thinking about it. And a balloon that escapes from a small child’s grasp and floats up, up, up into the atmosphere never to be seen again? I have to breathe into the nearest paper bag.

But I appreciate that other people are not crazy and can enjoy flying kites without having a panic attack. So I happily observed from afar.

This little girl was having a grand time.

The wind was pretty gusty and not at all steady, so there was lots of frenzied running around trying to get all of the kites up at once… and then two minutes later the wind died down and everyone would go back to chatting. Gave me a chance to catch my breath.

There were all sorts of neat looking kites. I’m not entirely sure what this was, but it was kind of like a kite-tent. It didn’t give me a heart attack because it seemed pretty securely staked to the ground.

Once I had my fill of the kites (it didn’t take long, let me tell you), the pup and I went for a stroll around Marcy Field. And we ran into a really nice Husky dog named Nova. Willa LOVES bigger, older dogs – and she will run and jump and bark and play until the other dog finally takes the bait. And then she immediately rolls over onto her back like, “I was just kidding! P-p-please don’t hurt me.”

It’s the puppy version of crying uncle. And it works like a charm.

Of course, we also came home with lots of goodies – spinach and cabbage and arugula and cherries and raspberries and honey and fresh sourdough bread. And then I baked a spinach-cabbage-arugula-cherry-raspberry-honey-sourdough casserole and ate it for dinner. Ok, not really, but I was tempted.

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