Plant a radish, get a radish

April 23, 2010

I have an awesome summer job. I work as the intern program music director/assistant mainstage music director for the excellent Weathervane Theatre in New Hampshire, where we produce 5 musicals, 2 straight plays, 4 intern musicals, and 3 cabaret/showcase performances over the course of 11 weeks (whew!). The paycheck is pretty minuscule and the work is pretty exhausting – yes, it’s theater, which is fun, but it’s also a 72-hour work week – but the quality of productions is very high, and you get to work with some amazing people. And it’s not so bad to have mountains to look at while you walk 2 minutes to rehearsal every day.

But. There are things I miss out on by living in the woods all summer.  One of these things is the Quincy Farmer’s Market*, which I only got to enjoy for about a month and a half before it shut down for the winter at Thanksgiving (we moved in September and it took me a while to figure out where and when it was). I miss it dearly, and it doesn’t open again until June, roughly two days after I leave for the summer. I know there will be plenty of kale and butternut squash and green beans and rutabagas waiting for me in September, but I want them NOW.

(There is a also a farmer’s market in Littleton, NH, conveniently scheduled on Sundays, our one day off. It’s pretty great too, arguably much greater than Quincy’s, since there’s a better selection of fancy breads and goat cheese and home-jarred kimchi in addition to the veggies. But I don’t really cook while I’m in NH — workday meals are provided, thank goodness — so I can’t take full advantage of the offerings.)

It is also the time of year when supermarkets and hardware stores and everywhere else boast big colorful racks of adorable seed packets, and while we have no yard to speak of, we do have enough porch space for a couple of good-sized pots. I would love to get going on some radishes, sugar snap peas, lettuces, and herbs, but Jacob assures me that he will not take care of them while I am gone, and more importantly, I wouldn’t be there to eat them. I have considered, very briefly, the possibility of taking a pot of something with me, but I am sure that would end in disaster, and again, I won’t be cooking much anyway.

*Note: By this I do not mean either the Quincy Market food court, which is not in Quincy, or the nearby Haymarket, which is decidedly not a farmer’s market, contrary to the belief of many misguided people who post on Yelp. Harrumph.


One comment

  1. […] This year things feel a little different, almost backwards. I know I’ve written before about my current summer job at the Weathervane Theatre, and one of the advantages of working a single, all-consuming job for a […]

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