Farmer's Market

Farmer's Market, a set on Flickr.

Stand by...trying out a new Feature from Flickr, allowing multiple picture blog posting.

These are pictures from our local Farmer's Market. For the Madisonians (Madisonites?) among you who have been to the farmer's market at the capitol, this will be something to sneer at, but for refinery-laden Houston, getting anything to grow is a bit of a challenge, so we take what we can get.

That being said, our Farmer's Market is pretty sad. Not too many booths, mostly of "gourmet" processed foods, one or two super-pretentious, ultra indie, no-animal-was-harmed-or-inconvenienced-or-even-slightly-annoyed-in-the-growing-of-this-produce sort of layout with its resulting $20 tomatoes. It's essentially fare for foodies who are more about the idea/image of being foodies (which, admittedly, is MOST foodies I have known, present companynotwithstanding) than in any sort of rational decision about the food they buy/eat. And old, slightly desperate folk singer was peddling his cd's and intermittently singing over an old and tired PA while the rich folks from River Oaks strolled among the common people, and everyone was really into the irony of buying food from the farm.

Having grown up in farm country, where I literally do not have enough toes and fingers to count the number of times neighbor cows escaped into our garden, the irony is lost on me. BUt them I don't really do ironic much anyway. As in, "no its not "ironic" that you are wearing a He-Man t-shirt and drinking PBR....its just attention whoring." Sorry to put it bluntly, but I am a big fan of sincerity. This sort of (I'd argue vastly mislabeled) "Irony", to me, seems like the last refuge of people with far too much time on their hands. People who are so jaded they can't legitimately like anything sincerely, without it having to be an inside joke. You know what? PBR sucks. Sorry. So do fixies. and yes, I fondly remember Nintendo and breakfast cereals of my youth and 80's saturday morning cartoons, but then I grew up and don't feel the need to continue to worship them and wear faux vintage t-shirts prominently displaying them.

Ok, so that got ranty. Oh the youth and their inevitable ability to befuddle the old. So anyway, yeah, when visiting Houston, skip the farmer's market. Unless you're a photographer.