The rare rainy and cool Saturday summer morning in Phoenix brought out the best in everyone at the downtown farmer’s market this morning. The seasonal rains cut the tension of the heat exhausted; there’s nearly an audible city-wide sigh of relief when the storms begin each year. Today, it seemed even the flowers were rejoicing the temporary break.





Squash blossoms



summer melon





Downtown Farmer's Market

It makes me happy to see how the market has grown in the last few years; there are so many more vendors and a wild variety of food and handmade items offered. The Public Market is also a fantastic new community resource for Phoenicians.

The perfect Saturday morning would be the oatmeal at Matt’s Big Breakfast, a tour of the farmer’s market with a lazy walk through Burton Barr for some new books and then off to Gallo Blanco for lunch.

Phoenix is huge. It is stucco and beige. It has backward politics and suburbs across 100 miles of the desert floor. It is hot half of the year. It is Goldilocks-perfect half of the year. And yet, if you look a bit closer, you can see the beauty in the growing community of folks who want to make this city something a bit better too. The volunteers and farmers at the market. The local restaurateurs gathering at each other’s openings and special events in collaboration and support. The world class art at the museums along Central Avenue. The music of the Pangean Orchestra. Independent movies at Camelview. Arizona wines poured at FNB. Maya’s Farm produce put to great use at Sweet Republic. Thousands of miles of hiking trails. A growing number of bike lanes. And a city that will once again rise from the latest nonsense that has tarnished the reality of so many more ethnicities, faiths and ways of life living and thriving together.

May the rains stay a bit longer, and may they wash away the hatred hanging over our state and help the current crazy state leadership set sail for other lands.