Sunday, September 23, 2007

Quick Thoughts

Today was Saturday, Farmers Market Day. A bit tough getting back into the routine, even though we only laid off for a week, due to fall sheep shearing last Saturday (which turned out to be rainy--a good market to miss, if we had to miss one. No soggy gear to deal with.)

But Emily and I both got up on time, prepared ourselves, loaded the truck, and were on the road even a couple minutes before our "drop-dead" time. If we arrive at market after a certain time, the barricades may be up, and we may have to carry in all our gear by hand. I was mentally patting us on the back when I heard that sound...

...that sound that you INSTANTLY recognize, even if you've never heard it before: the sound of the tailgate of the truck suddenly voluntarily flinging itself open, mid-turn, and strewing cargo across a busy intersection.

The thoughts that go through one's mind at times like that are a good measure of maturity and spiritual growth--kind of like a pop quiz spring on us by God, the universe and everything. And, I think I passed the quiz.

"Gee, I'm glad there's so little traffic on this highway at 6:30 a.m. on a Saturday."

"Well, it's just the potatoes, not the spinning wheel or the canopy [both high-dollar items that could take weeks to replace]. It WOULD be the purple ones...."

"If only I'd checked the tailgate after Emily closed it--but I saw her check it. It could have happened to me, just as easily. I hope she doesn't think I'm angry at her."

"Poor Ann Marie put so much work into washing those potatoes while I was driving the bus yesterday--I feel so bad that her work was for naught."

"Thank goodness the ice chest lid and the buckets weren't damaged. It's the best ice chest I have right now, and we're short on those square buckets as it is."

And last but not least, "This is going to seem pretty funny in hindsight." I heaved a sigh, and made up my mind to let it start being funny as soon as possible.

I stopped the truck, and Emily walked back to salvage the equipment off of the highway while I rounded up all the potatoes that were loose in the truck bed. With the tailgate secured and double-checked, we went on to market. Fortunately the barricades weren't up yet, and we were able to drive in.

By the time we finished setting up the booth, half a dozen other little things had happened. Vendors' tables blocking the driveway. Our neighbor's chili roaster throwing bits of chili skin on the table where I planned to display my handspun knit items. Dropping things. Losing things.

The visual image of potatoes strewn across the highway was already beginning to look pretty amusing, in hindsight. I did keep having this nagging thought about getting a ticket for littering, or causing a fatal accident from a vehicle skidding on those yummy little new potatoes, as round as ball bearings.

"One of us should go home and get a broom and go sweep up the highway," I said. Another funny mental image. Emily volunteered to go.

"Thank you for not killing me," she said later.

Well, if there's no use crying over spilt milk, I guess there's no use getting too upset about spilt potatoes.

And when I talked to Ann Marie about it later, she said HER first thought was, "oh, poor Natalya put so much work into digging those potatoes--I feel so bad that her work was for naught."

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