Peac-ed Out.

This morning on my way into work, I stopped at the small Rockefeller Center farmers’ market. I winded through aisles of ripe apricots, fresh greens, and homemade jams. I picked up a bunch of still mud-caked radishes, a loaf of freshly baked bread, and a handful of plums. This evening, the boyfriend and I have planned a picnic dinner on the Hoboken waterfront to celebrate the fall-like weather that has been gracing the Northeast the past couple of days. I wanted to pick up some fresh goodies to munch on (and it was a good excuse to indulge one of my favorite hobbies--food shopping).

Before I knew it, 30 minutes had passed. Thirty minutes sitting at my work desk feels like two hours. Twenty minutes wandering the farmers market, inspecting the produce, smelling for freshness, feeling for ripeness, passes like no time at all. I am never more at peace than I am when I’m with food. Perhaps it’s the earthiness or the sensory stimulation. Whatever it is, I could have passed the day there in those market stalls, tasting and wandering. This is what happiness tastes like to me on a Wednesday morning.

What makes you feel at peace? Is it reading a good book? Writing in a journal? Playing an instrument? Gardening? Running?


  1. That's beautiful. I don't know what is peace to me yet...I love food. But that's the problem. It's become/became an obsession.

  2. Thank you bakingnbooks. I think food is a very difficult thing to have a healthy relationship with. We can't not think about it because it is so essential to our survival, but if we think about it too much, it begins to jeapordize our happiness (which is also essential to survival, if you ask me.)