Getting worms

Some crazy chemistry got our nonegenarian up and out of bed way too early; this actually worked to our advantage, since we got in some walking before the day fell apart. On the first annual trip to our local farmers' market, things went from wet to worse, with so much rain and wind that their poor little tent roofs kept flying up and cascading the run off all over the place. The young woman I bought a cherry tomato plant from asked me if I knew what the rest of the day was supposed to be like; I asked her if she really wanted to know what we'd seen on the weather map. At least it was a warmish monsoon. The market has been drastically reduced in order to let the people who need to park at the Wallingford Center to buy cupcakes and get their kids' hair cuts zoom their expensive SUV's in where there should be more organic farmers' stalls. It's only one day a week, I don't see why the merchants can't suck it up for a few months. They will be sorry when the farmers' market moves elsewhere, as it is supposed to do. They're going to lose foot traffic from the market goers. They can't blame their poor business on this one day a week for the summer; the shops are not that wonderful, other than the hardware store.