I succeeded in moving my market arrival time back this morning to pre-8 a.m. It made a big difference; it was easier to get around and there was more time to chat with folks because there wasn’t as much crowd pressure.
I don’t actually have my own will to thank for my early arrival, though. It was the meowed 5:45 a.m. wake-up call outside my window of the stray cat who arrived earlier in the week and has been hanging around ever since. This seems appropriate, given that this was the week new research on the domestication of cats was released. The NYT titled their article “Study Traces Cat’s Ancestry to Middle East” and noted that the study found that all domestic cats could be traced to five feline matriarchs. While the Washington Post didn’t include that detail, they had the better headline: “Why Do Cats Hang Around Us? (Hint: They Can’t Open Cans).”
So Puss got his 6 a.m. breakfast and I got myself together.
At the market, I got talking with market manager Felix (not a cat) and Bob the Honey Guy. I was telling them about the spare cat who clearly likes to be outside (mine are exclusively inside). Bob used to have three cats but is down to one. I rubbed my hands together.
“So, Bob, would you like a slightly used cat?”
“What does he look like?” Bob asked.
“He’s grey and short-haired; he has green eyes and a little orange nose.”
“A little orange nose?” Bob said. I thought I sensed him softening.
“Yes, the littlest, orangest nose. It’s very charming.”
“Well, I’ll have to talk to my cat about it and see what he says.”
“You let me know.”
Seriously, how could you say no to this face? (He’s wearing a collar we put on him and affixed a note to in order to see if he had a home.) I think the little fluffy guy may have known what he was doing, getting me out of bed at the crack of dawn. “Go find me another sucker like you, er, I mean a nice person with lots of cat food,” he was probably thinking.
At any rate, it wasn’t just Caturday at the market. I hadn’t expected to see Fred of Savage Island Farms back with cherries, but he was, for one last week – and he brought cherry juice besides.
I had some of Fred’s grape juice last summer, so I was prepared for good things when I popped the lid off the jar, and I wasn’t disappointed. This statement I’m about to make somehow simultaneously hits and misses the mark: It’s like the sweetest, freshest, grown-up-est Kool-Aid you can imagine. Hits because it’s intensely cherried-tasting, and misses because it, being from Actual Cherries, has a depth and range that is nothing like Kool-Aid cherry flavoring.
I have been trying to think of Something To Do With It – for some reason this morning the cool bracing nature of cucumbers sounded like it’d figure nicely with the juice – but I doubt I’ll come up with a fully-formed idea and the energy before I drink it all. No matter; it’ll get enjoyed.
Finally, Michele at KMK (whose stall always seems to have the most dramatic lighting) had these beautiful melons – French breakfast, maybe? I forgot to ask.