Agnes and her husband Frank are both in their 70s. They are the very sweet couple who grow the pole beans I bought this morning.
Jon keeps the chickens that I get my eggs from. He sells whole chickens for meat, eggs, beets, cucumbers, and broccoli. He makes mistakes, just like you or I, and sometimes forgets the egg cartons. I buy my eggs from him because I respect him and what he does and I know he has problems with his old truck, but he provides for his wife and darling little girl, (who thinks beets are radishes).
I rode my bicycle to the local farmers market this morning to buy some soap, (from a friend of mine who is a soap-maker and knitter), some produce from local farmers and some bread from a local bakery. I always look for Jon with his beat up old red truck and his eggs. They are natural, small farm eggs, so they come in a variety of colors (usually brown), and no two eggs seem to be the same shape or size. Most of all...they are delicious!
Jon forgot his egg cartons this morning and had nowhere to put the eggs for me to take home. He was humble and said he might not sell the eggs today because of his forgetfulness. I insisted that I buy his eggs. My bicycle has bags on it and the one on the back rack is somewhat padded. He packed up 6 eggs in one paper bag and another half dozen in another. I put them in the plastic bag with a towel that I carry with me for extra padding. They didn't have enough change for the $20 I got from the bank this morning and his wife was trying to sell the eggs to me for half the price. I insisted that I would remedy the situation and asked her to wait.
I turned around and bought tomatoes, jalapeños, a green pepper and a couple of peaches from the farmer across the way and paid with the $20. (All items Jon does not sell.) With the change, I came back to pay Jon and his family for the eggs and some broccoli. They insisted on a lower price for the trouble and I insisted on paying what they usually charge. I told his wife, "I buy my eggs here because he is so nice and I want him to have my money." She seemed a little touched, as she looked back at her husband, (busy unloading the truck), with a look of love and adoration on her face. She said, "Yes, he's a good man."
I smiled and said, "thanks". As I started to mount my bike, I noticed that a few tiny beets had made it to the ground. I told the little girl that her beets had escaped, as daddy helped pick them up. I then added, "Have a great day!"
I rode back home, happy to have bicycle bags full of the healthy, useful things I had purchased from real people. When I unpacked my eggs, all but one made it home without a crack. I decided to call that one, (with just a small dent of a crack in it), "breakfast".