Ryerson farmer’s market: A letter of farewell

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By Allyssia Alleyne
Arts & Life Editor

I remember when you first came to campus last June. I’d heard good things about you from friends but I was hesitant to let you into my life. I’d assumed you were just after my money, even though everyone was raving about how you had them trying things they’d never even dreamed of. I couldn’t help but wonder: were you really that good?

So, one Tuesday after work, I dropped by. You looked so wholesome and healthy, and I was immediately taken by your old-fashioned charms. You were simple and quaint. I knew that we were meant to be.

Throughout the summer you convinced me that with enough effort, any vegetable could become a filling edible meal; and that there are other cheeses on the market aside from cheddar, brie and provolone. You gave me flowers just because. I’ve never had anyone care about me so much.

The best part of our time together was how you bettered me as a person. I started to care about the people who grew the spinach I put in my salads, the apples I put in my pies and the strawberries I put in my Magic Bullet.

But I was clear from the start that I wasn’t perfect, and that monogamy would be a constant challenge for me. I’ll be honest: I cheated every now and then. Yes, you were great on Tuesdays, but where were you when I needed my fix on Wednesdays and weekends? I started getting my organic honey from other markets, but only because they reminded me so much of you.

I know you’ll be back next year, but I can’t wait that long (a girl has needs, you know). My other markets are closing too, so I’ll probably have to step outside of the box again and cross into the bourgeois haven known as Whole Foods or start shopping the organic section at Metro. But no matter where I end up satisfying my appetites, I’ll always know that it was you who readied me for them. And who knows? Maybe we’ll pick up where we left off when you return.


Allyssia Alleyne

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