Tasmania

We went to the the market this weekend (I sometimes feel like this opening line is my own personal version of "once upon a time"). Bee and I perused the weekly selection together, shopping list in hand. The stand that we frequent is owned by a pair of sisters-in-law: one young and bubbly, the other older, and a bit more to the point.

Both of them are besotted with Bee and give her oranges, strawberries, or some other small treat each week. This week, Bee was outfitted with her own small shopping bag, and the older sister took it upon herself to fill Bee's bag with almost one of everything. These extreme generosity would make me feel guilty except that I think we are their best customers.

David and I spend an exorbitant amount of money, by Eastern European standards anyway, on fresh fruits and vegetables. We usually buy apples, bananas, pears, strawberries, and a surfeit of clementines. The vegetables vary week by week; since we mostly eat vegetarian they are inevitably the main course.

When our saleslady rang up the total, she was so aghast at the price that she insisted there must be a mistake and re-weighed everything again. The first price was correct, and she was even more horrified when we happily paid it. She continued to add more freebies to Bee's shopping bag until we were able to make our escape.

Among the treats she gave Bee was a small handful of cherries. I noticed the cherries because they were so expensive, forty dollars a kilogram. Fragile, out of season fruit costs a premium. These cherries however, were beautiful. So red they were almost black, as big as my thumb, and (I know since I stole one from Bee) perfectly sweet. The delicate cargo was still in its shipping crate and the label indicated that they came from Tasmania--sweet southern hemisphere cherries all the way from the bottom of the world. I cannot imagine how they got here, most likely by air. Perhaps carried by angels. I almost bought some, but even I have my limits when it comes to buying fruit.