Hey, Colorado Sunday friends! I’m sad to report that I have visited farmers markets exactly zero times so far this spring — unless you count purchasing heirloom tomato starts from a teacher who farms lightly (eggs, honey, tomatoes) as a side hustle, which pushes the count to once. The sadness comes from feeling like I’m missing out on the sense of discovery and camaraderie you get from chatting with a flower farmer or that one guy who grows asparagus way out in Weld County, or talking with a cheesemonger from Westcliffe about how chile-infused chevre might work in (insert your recipe idea here.) But there is also community in these markets — community that spans ages and vast dista
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