Farmer's Market

Summer mornings are usually busy.  Crumpled dollar bills change hands, vegetables are bagged and the crunch of gravel in the parking lot is constant.  The customers are as varied as the produce - rich mingling with poor, designer with downtrodden.  And in the midst of the browsing, the chatter, and the buying and the selling are silences deep and wondrous.  Quiet textures, sensual forms and subtle shadows coexist with the bustle of making a living and making a purchase.  And I stand in the middle trying to absorb it all.

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