April 2, 2026

Good morning!

It’s Thursday—and our first order of business is to head to the market for provisions. This place will be packed on Sunday. But now, midweek, we have plenty of room to wander and ponder and admire.

We’ll finally settle on the organic stall, where a nice man will comment that the peas are especially fresh this morning, they’ll go perfectly with those two large artichokes we just chose, and, here, let me rearrange these pink radishes so you can see how lovely they are. We’re overwhelmed by all the beauty, the cabbages and cauliflowers, the potatoes and carrots and eggplants and onions and heads of garlic as big as my hand. It’s asparagus season, so, naturally, we select a bundle of thick spears with tight, pointy tips.

We migrate to the fruit, where raspberries and strawberries are in abundance. He’ll slice a pear he wants us to try. We won’t remember what variety it is, but we will remember how surprisingly flavorful and delicate it was. Yes, please, may we have two of those as well?

From here, we’ll visit the fish stalls, heaped with glistening whole-bodied specimens so fresh, they have no smell at all. We’ll marvel at the cut meats and sausages and wee roast chickens. We’ll pass the flower guy, who is carefully assembling a bouquet for a man in a trench coat. And finally, oh my, what is this? An entire stall dedicated to different kinds of olives? Yes, please.

By the time we reach the cheese, we’re too overwhelmed. We can go to the cheese shop later, we say. This is just the beginning.

And so, with goofy smiles pasted on our faces, we stagger home and unload our bounty.

“It seems to me that our three basic needs, for food and security and love, are so mixed and mingled and entwined that we cannot straightly think of one without the others.”

—M. F. K. Fisher

Onwards,

Clara