Ever since our friend (and sometimes babysitter) Zena started volunteering with us on Tuesdays, Bastian has become incredibly, incredibly helpful during distribution. He moves vegetables from one bin to the next and slowly gleans from listening the subtle art of lots of counting. It truly is challenging to remember what number you're on while a room full of twenty counts out buckets of vegetables in rapid-fire staccato.
After we've counted out our hundreds of shares, we head in caravan and carpool off to our Fresh Stop, following the veggie truck, who runs off used vegetable oil.
This week, the endive in our grass bin looked as much like lawn clippings as anything.
And also quite exotic and beautiful.
The children seem to be off blackberries at the moment, though I cannot figure why. It seems to have something to do with my offering them as an option. If I just hide them away and forget about it, I find Bastian stained all about his mouth and hands. If I set them out, they mold and produce nothing but fruit flies.
The beets will store for awhile an eventually Jon will prepare Borscht, which I hate.
I love how beauteous our vegetables are. The subtle design, the twisted stalks, the even lines and veins...
The red cabbage with its stunning purple leaves...
The bright green of the kale and a touch of violet at the edges of its frills...
A family share on display minus, somehow, the herbs we got (basil, chamomile, cilantro): blackberries, kale, baby endive, beets, purple onions, snow peas, romaine, turnips, onion, garlic, potatoes, and red cabbage.
The single share got slightly less, but had a bag of pickling cucumbers (which worked quite well as eating-raw cucumbers).
Aleks found a caterpillar and while I dealt with endless lines of shareholders, checking them off and writing receipts, he abruptly interrupted by dumping the poor thing right on the table in front of me. The fat little guy couldn't walk properly on the table and kept rolling around, trying to find a grip amongst the hard plastic.
Toni and I thought it was hysterical and lovely.
After we've counted out our hundreds of shares, we head in caravan and carpool off to our Fresh Stop, following the veggie truck, who runs off used vegetable oil.
This week, the endive in our grass bin looked as much like lawn clippings as anything.
And also quite exotic and beautiful.
The children seem to be off blackberries at the moment, though I cannot figure why. It seems to have something to do with my offering them as an option. If I just hide them away and forget about it, I find Bastian stained all about his mouth and hands. If I set them out, they mold and produce nothing but fruit flies.
The beets will store for awhile an eventually Jon will prepare Borscht, which I hate.
I love how beauteous our vegetables are. The subtle design, the twisted stalks, the even lines and veins...
The red cabbage with its stunning purple leaves...
The bright green of the kale and a touch of violet at the edges of its frills...
A family share on display minus, somehow, the herbs we got (basil, chamomile, cilantro): blackberries, kale, baby endive, beets, purple onions, snow peas, romaine, turnips, onion, garlic, potatoes, and red cabbage.
The single share got slightly less, but had a bag of pickling cucumbers (which worked quite well as eating-raw cucumbers).
Aleks found a caterpillar and while I dealt with endless lines of shareholders, checking them off and writing receipts, he abruptly interrupted by dumping the poor thing right on the table in front of me. The fat little guy couldn't walk properly on the table and kept rolling around, trying to find a grip amongst the hard plastic.
Toni and I thought it was hysterical and lovely.
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