Farmer Smith was a strange little man, dressed in purple robes and a black top hat. He set up a tent at the farmers market every Saturday, laying out the most unusual fruits and vegetables. They looked similar to bananas and oranges and apples and cherries, but he said they were foreign varieties that he had grafted in order to grow domestically. Which makes sense. I’ve seen photos of bananas and mangoes that grow around the world and they look nothing like the boring yellow ones we have here. He always sells out, packs his table, and tent, smiling wide.