a spark of something

For me, a trip to the farmers' market quenches my thirst for life. Everything there is in season, it is bountiful and beautiful. Today I stopped in at the little Main Street farmers' market that runs on Wednesday afternoons. I only took $20 to discourage myself from overdoing it, and I ended up spending less than that, but I made away with great stuff! Figs, sunflowers, tomatoes, green peppers, two cinnamon crisp apples, a huge bunch of basil, and a yellow zucchini.
I'm especially happy with the figs and the sunflowers. Sunflowers are Scott's favorite flowers and it made me happy to bring some home for him. Especially after watching The Hours last night and ruminating over that first line of Mrs.Dalloway: "Mrs.Dalloway said she would buy the flowers herself."

And as Virginia Woolf felt a spark of something when she realized she had a first sentence, I too have been feeling a spark of something. I have always wanted to write, always dreamt that someday I would write a novel, or who knows, a book of short stories. The older I get, and more immersed in things-other-than-writing, the more that dream fades away with other girlhood fantasies. However I still harbor a secret yearning to make writing a discipline, if for no other reason than to see if anything comes of it. By now I feel insecure in my creativity, and can't imagine how I could come up with anything to actually write about. But recently I have had some ideas come forth from their shadows, and I am gathering them up, brushing them off, and trying to spend a little time thinking about them, developing them.

But let's get back to figs. I won't take a photo, because quite frankly I don't have any skills in that arena and there are already plenty of wonderful fig photos on the web. But just relive it with me - the green cardboard pint full of figs. The first bite, soft and seedy, savory even. Rather mellow but enchanting. Oh, figs.