These are gorgeous, Carin! Such vivid colours. I especially like the first one: the peppers are bright as candy. You’ve given me the urge to take a drive into the country today to pick up fresh vegetables. :)
A few weeks ago I went to our local outdoor market. I told the owner I was a member of the local camera club and asked if it would be alright for me to take a few photos. He was very reluctant (perhaps thinking I was photographing his prices to show them to a competitor). I compromised and told him I’d take photos from the outside, no close ups. He agreed, but watched me the for the moments I took 2 pictures. (I’d bought produce so it wasn’t like I was riding a freebie).
But what I most wanted to photograph was a close up of his mother’s hands as she handled the produce. It was clear that she worked with the soil, and worked hard. Her hands were stained, hardened and thickened from labour. The woman always wears a dark dress and a babuska ? (head scarf) and I think she might be eastern European. Very friendly, always.
The next time I went to the market, the older woman packed my produce in a bag and I did something I hope did not upset her, and appeared to please her. I took her hand and said something about how hard she must work … blah … blah …blah, all said with respect. She held up her two hand and looked at them too, a big grin on her face. We laughed about “hard work” and I thanked her and left. Her son looked on with a stern face. I don’t think I’ll ever win him over, even though I spend $40.00 on some giant mums for the front walkway.
Mary, what a strange encounter. Most of the farmers I’ve met are very open and friendly, thrilled (and often bemused) that I want to take pictures of string beans and signs for honey. They remind me of my own parents, who came from a European farming background, very harsh life, and thought I was a bit of nutcase whenever I’d go rhapsodic over the colour of a tomato on my plate. I’m betting the mother in your scenario was delighted by your attention; it sounds as if her son isn’t a barrel full of gratitude and/or laughs. She probably has no idea that what she does does is special. If she’s anything like my mother, she’s embarrassed by her hard-working hands but ever so appreciative of any recognition for the work they do.
Did you read Alice Zorn’s comments re yours?
Thank you so much for sharing this.
You’ve touched a nerve.
Carin, these colours make me want to head off to the market!
Mary, I believe people who work with their hands are proud of their usefulness, especially when they look at people who don’t know how to put a plant in the ground, heft a wrench, or whack a hammer to effect. When they see someone who can’t dig in the soil or plane a cupboard door, you might catch them with a look of pity or contempt. That’s the sentiment I heard expressed in my family who garden, build houses, fix their own cars. My brother always scoffed at my boyfriends’ with their “school hands” and my mother warned me not to settle down with someone who couldn’t build me a house.
Such a colourful time of year we’re heading into. Wait until the cauliflower show begins!
And I know just what you mean about hands, the way a certain generation, culture, ‘type’ of person, looks at them, and how they judge others based on what they see. Oh, you make me think! I have much to say on this subject…
I love your writing, absolutely adore it. But here you go again, making a story out of pictures with nary a word. How do you do it, Ms. Matilda Magtree?
Oh well. the point is you do and that’s very nice for us. We never know (except on Wordless Wednesdays) what will drop into our Inboxes but we know it always worth opening when it is from you.
Sometimes words escape me, Ruth.
Thank you so much for yours, especially ‘adore’ and ‘worth opening’… ;) Awfully nice, them words.
And always a treat to hear from you!
Matilda Magtree 
These are gorgeous, Carin! Such vivid colours. I especially like the first one: the peppers are bright as candy. You’ve given me the urge to take a drive into the country today to pick up fresh vegetables. :)
Yay! Mission accomplished! :)
Carin, this is luscious colour.
A few weeks ago I went to our local outdoor market. I told the owner I was a member of the local camera club and asked if it would be alright for me to take a few photos. He was very reluctant (perhaps thinking I was photographing his prices to show them to a competitor). I compromised and told him I’d take photos from the outside, no close ups. He agreed, but watched me the for the moments I took 2 pictures. (I’d bought produce so it wasn’t like I was riding a freebie).
But what I most wanted to photograph was a close up of his mother’s hands as she handled the produce. It was clear that she worked with the soil, and worked hard. Her hands were stained, hardened and thickened from labour. The woman always wears a dark dress and a babuska ? (head scarf) and I think she might be eastern European. Very friendly, always.
The next time I went to the market, the older woman packed my produce in a bag and I did something I hope did not upset her, and appeared to please her. I took her hand and said something about how hard she must work … blah … blah …blah, all said with respect. She held up her two hand and looked at them too, a big grin on her face. We laughed about “hard work” and I thanked her and left. Her son looked on with a stern face. I don’t think I’ll ever win him over, even though I spend $40.00 on some giant mums for the front walkway.
Mary, what a strange encounter. Most of the farmers I’ve met are very open and friendly, thrilled (and often bemused) that I want to take pictures of string beans and signs for honey. They remind me of my own parents, who came from a European farming background, very harsh life, and thought I was a bit of nutcase whenever I’d go rhapsodic over the colour of a tomato on my plate. I’m betting the mother in your scenario was delighted by your attention; it sounds as if her son isn’t a barrel full of gratitude and/or laughs. She probably has no idea that what she does does is special. If she’s anything like my mother, she’s embarrassed by her hard-working hands but ever so appreciative of any recognition for the work they do.
Did you read Alice Zorn’s comments re yours?
Thank you so much for sharing this.
You’ve touched a nerve.
Carin, these colours make me want to head off to the market!
Mary, I believe people who work with their hands are proud of their usefulness, especially when they look at people who don’t know how to put a plant in the ground, heft a wrench, or whack a hammer to effect. When they see someone who can’t dig in the soil or plane a cupboard door, you might catch them with a look of pity or contempt. That’s the sentiment I heard expressed in my family who garden, build houses, fix their own cars. My brother always scoffed at my boyfriends’ with their “school hands” and my mother warned me not to settle down with someone who couldn’t build me a house.
Such a colourful time of year we’re heading into. Wait until the cauliflower show begins!
And I know just what you mean about hands, the way a certain generation, culture, ‘type’ of person, looks at them, and how they judge others based on what they see. Oh, you make me think! I have much to say on this subject…
I love your writing, absolutely adore it. But here you go again, making a story out of pictures with nary a word. How do you do it, Ms. Matilda Magtree?
Oh well. the point is you do and that’s very nice for us. We never know (except on Wordless Wednesdays) what will drop into our Inboxes but we know it always worth opening when it is from you.
Sometimes words escape me, Ruth.
Thank you so much for yours, especially ‘adore’ and ‘worth opening’… ;) Awfully nice, them words.
And always a treat to hear from you!
I love these multicolored vegetables! Thank you so much!
Such a good time of year for colourful food…! Happy feasting.
Beautifully done!
Thank you!