I’m sitting at a picnic bench at the farmers market 4 blocks from my house, with my bag of produce and a quart jar of Bloody Mary juice homemade with the Hispanic farmers’ tomatoes, onions, garlic & peppers, vinegar, sugar & salt. Five dollars.
“Do you want medium or hot?” the woman vendor said.
“How hot is hot?” I said.
“Minnesota hot,” she said.
I laughed, and so did she. “I can handle that.”
I am not acclimated to truly hot food, but “Minnesota hot” means mild.
It’s Pride weekend here—I used to wander through Loring Park and see the folx, but I’m disengaged these days from most social gatherings (except the farmers market). Happily so.
But here—in solidarity I’ve arranged a rainbow on the picnic table…
I’m heading home though—it rained during the night and looks like rain is coming again. Look at those clouds!
