Cherry Soup, Farmers Markets, and Finding My Way Back

Welcome back, friends.

And if you’re new to CherryCoBiz…

I’m so glad you’re here.

If you’ve noticed things have been a little quieter around here lately, thank you for your patience.

Life has changed quite a bit over the past several weeks.

My new job has become one of the most challenging positions I’ve ever held. It draws from so many things I’ve done throughout my career, yet somehow combines them into something entirely new. Some days it feels like every skill I’ve ever learned has been rolled into one role… with the difficulty turned up just a little higher.

I won’t pretend it hasn’t stretched me.

It has.

By the time I get home, many evenings my energy has already been spoken for.

As much as I love writing here, I haven’t been able to invest the time in CherryCoBiz that I wish I could.

Today felt different.

For the first time in a while, I realized I didn’t have to stay connected any longer than necessary.

I could simply come home…

Sit down…

And finally write the post I’d been carrying around in my head for nearly three weeks.

Ironically, it all started with a writing prompt.

Share a hobby you’ve picked up recently. What got you into it?

My answer surprised me.

Farmers markets.

The funny thing is…

It’s not really a new hobby at all.

It’s an old one that quietly found its way back into my life.

Years ago, I loved wandering through local markets.

Then life happened.

Moves.

Work.

Responsibilities.

Schedules.

Little by little, those slow Saturday mornings became something else.

The appreciation never disappeared.

The habit simply drifted into the background.

Recently, though…

I’ve found my way back.

And I didn’t realize how much I had missed it.

I Think the Midwest Spoiled Me

I’ve lived in different places throughout my life.

And while every region has something unique to offer, I have to admit something.

The Midwest has some of the best farmers markets I’ve ever visited.

Some are large.

Some are wonderfully small.

Each has its own personality.

But every one of them seems to showcase the very best its community has to offer.

Fresh fruits.

Vegetables picked at their peak.

Local honey.

Fresh bread.

Homemade baked goods.

Jams.

Pickled vegetables.

Specialty mushrooms.

Local meats.

Handcrafted soaps.

Art.

Woodworking.

Tamales.

Fresh flowers.

Sometimes there’s live music.

Sometimes there are children running between booths.

Dogs greeting strangers.

People proudly explaining how they grow, raise, bake, carve, bottle, or create whatever they’re selling.

It isn’t just shopping.

It’s an experience.

And I genuinely love every minute of it.

Even if you don’t live in the Midwest, I hope you’ll look for whatever version of this exists where you are.

You may discover that your own community has been quietly creating something wonderful all along.

The Day We Lost Loki

Three weeks ago, we planned to spend our Saturday morning wandering a few local farmers markets.

Instead…

We woke up and said goodbye to Loki.

It wasn’t the morning any of us expected.

Afterward, we debated whether we should still go.

Eventually…

We did.

The GPS took us down roads we’d never driven before.

For a few minutes we weren’t entirely sure where we were.

Country roads.

Green fields stretching into the distance.

Old houses tucked beneath giant trees.

Morning mist still hanging over everything.

It was peaceful.

Quiet.

Not the day we had planned…

But somehow, exactly the day we needed.

Eventually we found the markets.

We filled our bags with vegetables, herbs, mushrooms, and everything else that caught our eye.

The next day…

We made the biggest pot of vegetable soup I’ve ever cooked.

The Harvest Doesn’t End at Dinner

When I first set out to make what eventually became Cherry Soup: Late Summer Harvest, I thought I was making a really good vegetable soup.

What I didn’t realize was that I was creating something that would continue feeding my family long after the last bowl was served.

That stockpot fed the three of us generously for four full days.

And when all was said and done?

There were still somewhere between eight and twelve servings left.

I divided the leftovers into three freezer bags.

There was no way I was letting any of it go to waste.

Looking back now, I realize Cherry Soup wasn’t really the point. It was the gift that came from deciding to keep going.

When you start with beautiful ingredients and give them the time they deserve, the meal doesn’t end when dinner is over.

Sometimes it becomes tomorrow’s lunch.

Sometimes next week’s dinner.

Sometimes it becomes something entirely new.

The Soup That Wanted to Become Something Else

The more I thought about those freezer bags sitting patiently in my freezer, the more ideas started showing up.

One of the first?

A rich vegetable-forward sauce.

I’m picturing thawing a bag of Cherry Soup, blending it until silky smooth with an immersion blender, adding a splash of beef broth if it needs thinning, and letting that incredible vegetable base become a luxurious sauce over egg noodles with ButcherBox meatballs.

Can you imagine?

All of those farmers market vegetables…

The Wildwood Farms mushrooms…

The elephant garlic…

The herbs…

Quietly transformed into something my son would probably never suspect is packed with so much goodness.

The same idea would work beautifully with Salisbury steak.

Or spooned over mashed potatoes.

Or served alongside roasted chicken.

Or folded into a hearty shepherd’s pie filling.

The possibilities are almost endless.

The freezer isn’t holding leftovers.

It’s holding ingredients for future meals.

Community Is an Ingredient

One of my favorite discoveries has been paying closer attention to the people behind the products.

The pioppini and pink oyster mushrooms came from Wildwood Farms.

The herbs and specialty ingredients came from Mama Jean’s.

One of my favorite local honeys comes from J’s Bees Honey in Rogersville.

I stopped by recently hoping to pick up another jar.

They were sold out.

And honestly?

I smiled.

When you buy from real people, nature decides what’s available.

That’s part of the beauty.

There’s something deeply satisfying about knowing where your food came from.

Knowing someone planted it.

Harvested it.

Raised it.

Or carefully made it.

Those people become part of the meal, too.

Wellness Isn’t About Perfection

The longer I continue this journey, the more convinced I become that wellness isn’t about chasing perfection.

It’s about paying attention.

To the food.

To the people growing it.

To the conversations around the table.

To the quiet Saturday mornings that remind us to slow down.

To the meals that continue nourishing us long after the dishes have been washed.

We chose to keep going.

We chose to support our local community.

We chose to cook together.

We chose to gather around the table.

And weeks later…

That single trip to the farmers market is still feeding us.

Not just through the freezer bags waiting for another meal.

But through the reminder that some of the best things in life aren’t consumed all at once.

They continue unfolding long after we think the experience is over.

Maybe that’s why I’ve fallen in love with farmers markets all over again.

Not because they’re trendy.

Not because they’re nostalgic.

But because they remind me that good things take time to grow.

The harvest doesn’t end when you leave the market.

It doesn’t end when dinner is served.

Sometimes…

It doesn’t even end when the soup is gone.

It simply becomes something new.

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What about you?

Have you rediscovered an old hobby lately?

Or is there a farmers market, roadside stand, or local maker in your community that you think deserves a little extra love?

I’d love to hear about it.

— Terra