This evening, I was making my semi-usual Monday after work loop heading to the Boston City Hall Farmers Market to pick up raw material for dinner. As I approached the market I thought, “wow, it’s nice that they have those lights so people can still shop after dark now that they set the clocks back.” As I got closer, I saw that some of the stalls were already empty and the rest were packing up fast, a whole hour before what I thought was closing time.

I was able to buy a stalk of brussels (with a final s) sprouts from a farmer who explained that they changed the hours because “who wants to be here in the dark.” Reds Best was long gone, quashing the evening’s protein plan.  I’m not sure if the farmers were leaving because they didn’t want to stay after dark (I guess the business from after-work shoppers like myself isn’t that rich) or because some official had decreed that you can’t buy fresh produce outdoors after sundown. It was clear that the vendors I saw had plenty of inventory left. It was one of those “not world class city” moments that I keep wishing Boston would outgrow.

Clutching my stalk of brussels sprouts and grumbling to myself on the T, I realized two things: first, you get more room on the T if you’re brandishing a stalk of brussels sprouts, and second, the real problem here is that sham called Daylight Saving (no final s) Time.