Under the overpass, the Minneapolis Farmers Market blooms where it was planted.
Long rows of market stalls display the best of our short, sweet summer. Heirloom tomatoes, snap peas, berry pints, sweet corn. Gleaming jars of jam and honey; fragrant blocks of handmade soap; growlers of kombucha; squeaky-fresh cheese curds.
The air smells like herbs and fresh-cut flowers and ribs sizzling in the smoker. Those drivers overhead, speeding through Minneapolis without stopping or caring, don't know what they're missing.
"You can get anything here," said Bruce Smith, who has worked this market longer than just about anyone; and whose family has been feeding Minnesota since their wagon train stopped on the plot of land they would name Brooklyn Park.
Come to the Smith Farm stall for the fresh produce, the pickles, the salsa. But most of all, Smith says, come down to the farmers market "for the experience and the people."
It was National Farmers Market Week last week, as good a reason as any to celebrate the largest open-air farmers market in the upper Midwest. Every morning, vendors set up shop along East Lyndale Avenue North. The city owns the land. The farmers run the market.
They'll show up for us as long as we show up for them.
Ka Yang and her children arrived at 5 a.m. to arrange the morning's produce in rainbow rows in stalls 316 through 320.