Do You Love Your Farmer? I Do...

Well, not your farmer, mine... Anyway...

Laura and I have a subscription to a CSA called Happy Tortoise Farm, and normally our share is dropped off at the University of Portland, Laura's place of employment. This week, however, my better half is on Bainbridge Island, and it fell to me to pick up the veggies at the alternate drop-off spot on Alberta street. So I'm thinking, my farmer, Andrew, gets there at 4:30, I'll jump on the bike and make my way up there right as he's arriving and get first pick of the bounty. Which I did. Got all bundled up, mounted my fixie with its 48/18 gear ratio, and made my way, in nearly freezing temperatures, riding into the wind, uphill all the way (did I mention I ride a fixie, with a 48/18 gear ratio, and did I mention that such a gear ratio is not particularly suited to climbing [okay, so it's actually kind of a mellow gear ratio, I'm a bit of a candy ass; stop me before I sub-parentheticalize again...]?), to 16th and Alberta. Only to arrive at about 5:00 to find the pick up spot locked, dark and uninhabited. Shit. The pick-up must've been earlier in the day. I'm too late. So I make my way back home (downhill and with the wind to my back, thankfully), thinking I'd miscalculated and forfeited my veggies. Then, at about 6:45, I checked my e-mail and discovered that the pick-up was scheduled from 5:30 to 7:00. I had, ironically, gotten there too early, and didn't have time to make it back by 7:00. So I call Andrew and leave a message, thinking we might be able to meet up somewhere over the weekend for the veggie exchange. Long story short, he calls me back to say that I'm on his way home, and he can drop off the veggies, which you see above. It's an awful lot of trouble to go to for some veggies, to be sure, but how many people can claim such a relationship with the folks who grow their food?

This is why I love my farmer.