I negotiated myself out of bed really early yesterday
morning with the goal of beating the Saturday rush at the farmers’ market. That
painful struggle from feet under the covers to feet on the floor was well worth
it when I got to pull away from the market parking lot just in time to watch it
start to crowd up through my rearview mirror.
Going early not only avoids the madness of baskets and
bicycles and baby strollers (and human strollers who seem to have no mission
except to block those of us who do); but it also ensures the freshest
picks. Like these:
I brought them into the house and started to prep a vase
when I noticed a tiny honeybee scavenging in one of the blooms. I rushed out to
the patio, gave the bee a little puff for incentive, and just as it flew away,
a massive bumble bee so bulbous it seemed to barely be able to combobulate
itself rushed at my bouquet with surprising determination. It startled the hell
out of me; but I managed to safely swat it away and hurry back to the calm of
my kitchen.
I’m not really one to ignore when a living metaphor comes at
me like that, so seemingly set on sending me a message. I pondered its meaning
and concluded this: don’t be quick to make drastic changes when faced with only
a minor problem; you could trade it for a much bigger one.
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