I saw them as I was returning to my car this morning at the weekly Farmer's Market under the highway bridge near downtown Sacramento. It looked like three generations of this Asian family headed toward the market as I was walking away. A grandmotherly woman had her arm around a boy, who looked like he was ten years old, and she was talking to him in a language I did not recognize. I imagined her passing down some wisdom - maybe about farmers' markets she has visited in the past.
That is what is so wonderful about this Sunday gathering of farmers and buyers. Not only is there a beautiful bounty of fresh vegetables, eggs, breads, meats, and fish, but there is also a colorful and varying vision of people from a multitude of cultures. It's not unusual to see men wearing turbans, women with scarves on their heads, and other women wearing saris amongst those clothed in jeans and t-shirts. Different languages swirl in the air with the varying aromas and humanity mixes together looking for food and deals and a shared experience.
I see immigrants, children of immigrants, and so many people I do not know. In my heart and soul, I believe, they have many stories to tell like the ones I am collecting for my book.
It is nourishing to see this bounty at the Farmers Market and to be part of it.
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