Wafts of sweet strawberries mingle with the earthy tones of potatoes as I walk beneath an awning covering a bustling sidewalk. I’m completing a weekly tradition of mine, shopping at the local farmers market. And, to be honest, taking in a bit of people-watching.
On this bright Saturday afternoon in Washington, D.C., I see the happy faces of families and friends enjoying the day. Each person is carefree as they wind through overflowing crates of produce.
But here’s the irony: Although I work on behalf of children who have much less than I do, I walk through this market on the weekends sometimes just for fun.