Today, I visited a place that is almost too fantastic to be believed.  There was a veritable jungle of strange and exotic plants never before seen, with flowers ranging in color from stark white to violet  to bright red and yellow.  And not only that, but there were enormous insects.  Lady bugs as big as basketballs, dragon flies that could lift a puppy and carry it off, and butterflies of wildly different colors soaring overhead.  There was rain that would start at the drop of a hat and then stop almost as abruptly as it had begun.  Not to mention the water fountains of all shapes and sizes.  And next to those you could find many small, sandy beaches with tiny statues propped up in the sand.  Why were they there?  Were they the tribute of some miniature race of people to their ancestors or deities?  This theory could be supported, perhaps, by that fact that there were tiny tractors next to many of these small beaches.  The bugs in this place were easily larger than these tractors, whose purpose remains a mystery.  As I continued to walk, my senses were overwhelmed by the glorious aroma that permeated the air.  Pungent and sweet and vivid.  My mouth began to water as I realized that the smell was fruit.  Not like any fruit I had ever seen before, but fruit none the less.  The array of shapes, colors, and sizes was dizzying.  From fruit the size of my hand to fruit the size of my head.  Some round and soft, others hard and oblong, and still others spiny and ugly as though they were begging not to be eaten. Mountains of fruit, as far as the eye could see!  And it didn’t stop there.  As I explored this strange place further, I discovered that there was also a staggering amount of vegetables, nuts, and grains.  Each forming their own little mountain, although their smell was not nearly so alluring.  And everywhere were I looked, people were busily milling about with their heads down.  Sniffing and poking and prodding.  Looking up only if they happened to bump someone or something else and only long enough to mutter, “excuse me”.  It was almost as if they didn’t realize what a strange and exotic place this was.  As if they just took it for granted that a place as magical as this should exist in the middle of the city.  I hope I never become one of them.  As we were driving away, I looked over my shoulder trying to take note of something I could identify this place by, so I could be sure to find it again.  There was a big sign I had missed as we arrived that read, “Farmer’s Market”.  Since I cannot yet read, I don’t know what it meant, but I will remember what it looked like and I WILL find it again.
– A two-year-old’s first experience of a farmers market.