Pictured here are some eggs from Quail Hill Farm, where Rachel and I used to work, on the eastern tip of long island. They aren't dyed for Easter, they just naturally come in all those sizes and colors. That little little one is from a little little bird, which in chicken terms is called a bantam, and the blue eggs often come from the breed called Araucauna. The outsides are nice, but when I cracked open one of those eggs this weekend I was reminded of the first time I did, about 4 years ago. I thought, "that is yellow." It's a theme that has repeated itself continually since Rachel and I began farming, like the first time we tried raw whole unhomogenized milk: "It tastes like milk." - Which is I suppose to say that a lot of store bought stuff, including veggies, is hard pressed to match up with what we eat for a good chunk of the year. Alot of that feeling truly is the taste and freshness of the stuff, but I chalk some of it up to the connections one has to it, the more intimate the better.

All this is leading up to two things: our CSA is filling up quick, so those who are really tempted to be part of one in Burlington . . . not strictly a marketing tool this. David and Rachel's Full Moon Farm is taking a year break (though I believe pick-yr-own strawberries still on tap) so B-town is down to three CSAs in its municipal boundaries.

Thing 2. A post or two ago I think I mentioned being happy to "get off the City Market greens" - I will be happy to be growing my own for the reasons stated above, but that isn't to slight the service that City Market does for us who farm in the winter and us at large all year round. They have provided the option of organic or conventional greens (and a pretty wide range of them) all Winter. And there are some pretty good reasons why those greens are bound to be more expensive and hard to keep pretty. (If you didn't know the reason for both of those is that they travel long long ways.) But I'm still quite happy to have the ability to walk to a place where I can eat organically if I want, and at a store where I know they are chomping at the bit to get local as soon as they can.

And to think I've said all this without even thanking Joe for the eggs. Thanks, Joe. The sweet potatoes were great too.