The woman at the farmer’s market had a small table covered with bunches of leaves and plants I didn’t recognize. While other vendors sold early greenhouse produce – lettuce and herbs in neat bundles – her offerings looked wild and slightly chaotic. Dark serrated leaves, fuzzy stalks, delicate shoots with unfamiliar shapes. A handwritten sign read “Foraged Greens – Ask Me Anything.” She stood behind the table in worn overalls, hair in grey braids, boots caked with mud, looking more like she’d just walked out of the forest than set up at a market. ...
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