SUNDAY MORNING FARMER MARKET We're back from the nearest farmer's market after a weekend infusion of vegetable beauty. Stand after stand of tomatoes, peppers, onions, sweet corn, radishes, cabbages, all delighted the eye. As we strolled along, a wealth of music filled the air. The African American harmonica player set the white poodle dancing in the street. One guitar player plinked out toe taping tunes. And a little girl who played the violin, with her mother accompanying her drew a crowd. She played "Casey would waltz with the strawberry blond and the band played on." Bob asked her to dance and she gave him a funny look. "I don't think she knows the words," he murmured to me, and we hurried on our way. Dogs,s dogs, of pure and mixed breeds behaved beautifully. Little kids stood entranced over wooden pumpkins and birdhouse. We traveled on to admire eggplants of all sizes and colors. We tasted jams and jellies. Breads and cookies. Meat samples. Popcorn. It was so filling visually that we didn't buy much. A bag of tomatoes from Decatur, NE and a bunch of kohlrabi to slice and salt for a bit of crunch. Our senses sated, we smiled and waved goodbye.