by Margaret Radisich Sleasman

Created on: August 20, 2009

Having no gardening talent whatsoever, I am forced to purchase produce from the grocery store. It is not that I haven't tried. I planted gardens year after year only to breed worms, bugs and some shriveled up vegetables that were not fit to eat. I planted fruit trees - guaranteed to have fruit in three years. My plum tree is now 30 feet tall and has been growing for 27 years; it never, ever had a plum - not even one. I tried other fruit trees, but the kids usually mowed over them or "it bare not one blossom or fruit" and so we cut them down after a few years.

I do have one very old apple tree that came with the property when we first moved here. The apples are very good, and even though I hate making pies, I figured that was the least I could do once a year when the apples mature. I come from a line of gardeners; their gardens always produced wonderful vegetables and fruits. I was definitely behind the door when the "produce-grower" genes were handed out. On top of that, I married someone who also is green-thumb disabled.

So, I gave up and purchased things at the supermarket. As produce came from further and further away, it began to taste like cardboard or wax. This is because the fruits have to be picked green so they don't rot by the time they get to their destination. Bananas are the only fruit that can be picked green and still tastes decent when ripened - but how are we to know that, bananas have always come from a distant land, maybe they taste different where they grow. I am not going to find out anytime soon because I remember the "Banana Boat" song by Harry Belafonte singing about the "Black Tarantulas". This is enough to keep me from "going to the source".

Unfortunately, we live in a cold northern state where it rains pretty much all year except for a couple of weeks in the summer. We are too busy complaining about the heat during those two weeks to do anything, so if someone with a garden grew anything, they would never know. Since the late 60's when some of the local Hippies grew up and wanted to eat real food, they became our local food producers, opened roadside booths to sell their wares and later joined the local Farmer's Market. I am not mocking the Hippies, I am very thankful for them because if they did not settle here and plant food, we would have no local produce at all.

I finally got tired of spending outrageous sums of money for produce that tasted like cardboard; I found my way to the local farmer's market. Knowing that produce

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