Pt. Reyes Farmers' Market

On Saturday I bought french heirloom galeux d'eysuves and sucrine de berry winter squash from a trio of Harry Potter's at the Pt. Reyes farmers' market. The sheriff was selling tomatoes but I couldn't figure out what the woman in the leopard print dress and pink sweater was selling. She was all over the place.

The 9:00 a.m. bell ringer that announces the opening of the market was convincingly dressed as a farmer. As he made his way from one end of the L-shaped market to the other I realized it was the last time this year I would be witness to it. Next week is the last of the west Marin market and Saturday mornings at Toby's Feed Barn will be just that; Saturday mornings at Toby's Feed Barn. Until spring returns bringing the market with it.

I remembered the early crowd at the first market of the season, three deep at each vendor. The coffee line had been impossible that day, the picnic tables full of people eating hot cheese and egg sandwiches and small children had run in circles down the middle aisle when they weren't poking at the feral cats at the adoption tent. The only thing missing had been the clowns.

The early novelty seems to have dimmed with the season though. As the market opened the cheese sandwich man hadn't yet lit his grill and the aisles were free of children. The coffee line was manageable and the honey women were set up offering tastes with no waiting. I was first everywhere I went making it a tough decision to pick which end of the season I like better.

Aside from the heirloom squash I found cabbages the size of a Cyclop's one eye, bought three and filled the remainder of my canvas bag with familiar butternut and delicata squash and made the second trip to the car before having coffee and a ginger scone. The scones alone are worth the trip to Pt. Reyes which doesn't take into account the bob cat, deer, hawks, turkeys and vultures I saw on the way there. Or secondary, the saddle shop across the street on the corner that is literally packed to the rafters with good finds or the book store a few doors down from there. One of the best bookstores in the county with old plank wood floors that creak like Halloween all year long.

As much as I'll miss the Saturday market adventures I've stored their stories under flour sack towels in the pantry in the form of four heirloom squash I can't pronounce, five butternut and half a dozen delicata's. I can't wait to serve them but I doubt anyone will believe I bought them from one of three Harry Potter's whose cape constantly blew into the scale as he weighed them on a foggy Saturday morning.