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From This Weekend's Market

Potatoes from a farmer who told me last week that that was the last week he would have them. I can abide this kind of untruthfulness.

"Sweet like Walla Walla" onions. Total cost of these: 25¢.

Turnips.

Tomatoes from a farmer who convinced me to take the fourth one by saying, "If you get a yellow, you'll have one of each color."

Okra, surely the last of the season and risky at that. This purchased from a farmer who seemed to be Eastern European or Russian and who spoke really no English. She showed me how much okra I would get for $1.50 (her increment, not mine) by creating a little heap.

Kohlrabi,as promised.

Beets, also as promised. We've already had the delicious latkes.

Bi-color corn.

Cauliflower for the regular.

Apples: honey crisp (A-mazing!), mollies, and gala.

Yesterday was the University of Wisconsin v. Ohio State game-- at 7 pm. As a result, my gym closed at 5 pm. It generally sees light use on Saturdays and Sundays, but yesterday at 3 pm with all the undergrads getting sloshed in preparation for the contest, I was the only male and one of maybe three in the space. Eager to take advantage of this opportunity (opportunity for what, I'm not sure), I decided I had to take photos of the locker room using my phone, flaunting the no cellphone/camera use rule. In the process, I rediscovered a message I'd scratched to myself some months ago.

From This Weekend's Market

Flat Indian beans. As I noted in a recent missive to Margit Carstensen, I purchased them from a Mennonite farmer who wore "only the lightest blush of adulthood." Here they are, their sugary sweetness featured in a nearly perfect salad:

Not pictured: corn, honeycrisp apples, turnips, heirloom tomatoes, fingerling potatoes, cranberry beans-- we left town for Chicago immediately after the market, so I didn't have proper time to record the produce. Next week, I'm shopping for kohlrabi and beets so I can make these latkes.

"Dean Rust observed his urine to smell like violets, though he had eat nothing that might give it that scent. Sir Amos Meredith who had been his bedfellow, said, that in the night he had observed this like agreeableness of smell in Mr. Greatarick's body, at some hours."

-Henry Stubbe, The Miraculous Conformist (1666)

Best Word

From the UW Archives:Dawn of the Park Street Footbridge

Circa 1960's, on what appears to be an early fall day not unlike today.
And, for KRB, who's known to delight in footbridges, funiculars, monorails, and such as.