Gentle Days make for Gentle Ways

Have I ever mentioned that I love early summertime? I mean really love it?
Not the "waiting in the car when it's 103 degrees" moments, but there are far more good than bad, to my mind.
Things like the first few nights when it's warm enough to be outside barefoot.
Driving in the evening with all the windows down and the radio blaring - maybe singing in a shouting way something by Joe Walsh.
Going long distances at night on an open straight highway.
Hearing the children laugh and run through the sprinklers.
The rare occasion of a booming summer thunderstorm.
A cold, cold beer on a hot, hot day.
The first three seconds when you walk outside and it's so hot that it takes your breath away.
Hearing Trev shout "cannonball!" before he jumps into the foot-deep kiddie pool.
Seeing hippies kick a hacky in the park.
Outdoor concerts on the lawn - properly equipped with a cooler full of beer and scrumptious cold foods.

The other day at brunch with The Mama's we were discussing organic versus local. I said that I choose organic, because I strongly believe that it's "the right thing to do". I don't like the unnecessary residual diseases to the animals, birds, insects, and earth.
Since I made that sweeping statement, I've been reminded of farmer's markets, and fruit stands, and the sign that I spotted in my neighborhood last year that was perched upon a barrel of fruit that said "Take Some".
I think I may be changing my mind, friends.
Not that I don't believe that we should all farm or garden organically, because I really, really do.
But...
I think there is something to be said for the feel of things. The notion of purchasing melons from a local farming couple that are happily and lovingly running their land the same way their parents and grandparents before them did is really speaking to my heart. Or herbs grown by a local group of teens.
Today as I experience this glorious day, I'm seeing a difference.
A difference between a huge company that may or may not have long ago taken over the other local farms, pays its workers a pittance, and is out to cut costs any way they can (while farming officially organically); and a man who wears overalls and a straw hat, has a air of wisdom, calls his wife "Ma" or some other pet name with a twinkle in his eye, and has had dirt under his fingernails for the last sixty-two years. "Cept maybe on Sund'y.
He loves his land. He lives it and breathes it.
I wonder if the same can be said for some of the larger farms?
I'm not discounting them automatically because they are progressive, and are concerned for the future profit of their farms. I can understand that.
But I find it really, really romantic to browse, purchase, and consume foods that were grown with love.
So I think instead of dismissing a stand outright because it doesn't catch my eye with a large sign proclaiming "Organic", I'll mosey over, see what they have, and let my heart guide me to my decision.