I have a disclosure to make: I am moving to Seattle. This morning, all doubts and hesitations disappeared when I found one of Seattle’s many farmer’s markets, a little parking lot teeming with people. I found something I wanted to buy under every single tent. Big, blood red baskets of Washington’s first cherries and fresh goat’s milk cheeses beckoned me from two separate corners, causing me to panic momentarily until my still-sane husband assured me I could go to both stalls. We planned plantings for our as-yet-unpurchased Seattle house’s side yard, and mulled over which farm we’ll choose for next year’s bulk shipment of grass-fed beef.
I might like living here.