I stop into the Friday Hardwick Farmers Market to buy dumplings for my daughters. Waiting in line, I chat with an acquaintance from a nearby town who tells me his wife’s sister unexpectedly passed away in spring, and left a house full of things and no children to clean out the house. I’ve known this man and his wife for years. They’re amicable and pleasant, with a far more relaxed view towards the world than my own, seriously Type A, ‘get a plan’ attitude.’ I find them incredibly pleasant and refreshing.
He buys chicken curry and mentions to me that if I ever hear of free vinyl records, he’d be interested.
A chilly wind blows across the market field, and the vendor grabs his paper boxes. ‘Feels like September,’ he says. ‘Summer’s disappearing, and I haven’t even enjoyed it yet.’
I hand him ten dollar bill and step out into the sunlight. In the pavilion, a young woman sings while another fiddles. For a moment, time splinters, and I’m back at the Stowe Farmers Market where I sold our maple syrup for over a decade. For many of those years, I had a baby or small child on my back. Cloud shadows skitter over the field, and the wind blows dust into my eyes.
The dumpling man says, ‘Take more sauce,’ and I do.
I know what coming back to America from a war zone is like because I’ve done it so many times. First there is a kind of shock at the level of comfort and affluence that we enjoy, but that is followed by the dismal realization that we live in a society that is basically at war with itself. People speak with incredible contempt about – depending on their views – the rich, the poor, the educated, the foreign-born, the president, or the entire US government… People who speak with contempt for one another will probably not remain united for long.”— Sebastian Junger
10 thoughts on “Dumpling Quest.”
You wrote a very descriptive scene, love it. I also agree with Junger’s quote (which scares me), and I think the window view photo is beautiful!
This is one of my favorite windows in our house. Nice to hear from you!
Your window framed the scenery beautifully. Our dogwood trees have started the transition into fall, the colors changing ever so gently. Junger’s quote is a true cautionary tale I’m afraid.
Agreed — does seem to be a cautionary tale. Always nice to hear from you!
Always a pleasure to read your posts.
It is a chilling quote indeed.
Junger is a rugged writer, for sure.
That is some pretty good writing. I feel as though I was present and captured in the moment. Thanks for sharing this piece, Brett.
Thanks for stopping by!