The Fruit Stand Lady

Have you ever driven a road in farm country road where there is not a car in sight and come upon a produce stand by the side of the road? They usually have the best produce because it generally comes straight off the farm. Driving into town the other day we spotted the largest watermelons we have ever seen at a roadside fruit stand. Adam is a connoisseur of watermelon, so we had to stop. The salesperson told us they had sold an 80 lb watermelon just that morning. We weren’t looking for something quite that big, but we knew there was something special about them.


The lady running the stand called herself Blondie and she was a character. She was a heavy-set, dirty blond chatterbox from Texas. In the first five minutes after talking to her we knew that her fruit came from Texas, she ran this stand in the summer and a landscaping business in the winter. Her gait was slow and she didn’t seem in the best health, so I really couldn’t imagine her working as a landscaper hauling large trees, planting flowers, or laying down grass. Though, she was probably a great foreman. She spoke in poor English, both loudly and quickly, and would turn any subject discussed into an entertaining story about herself or someone in her family. We know that she has nine kids, eleven or so grandchildren, likes malts, and doesn’t sleep much because she’s so busy (chatting at the fruit stand I think). I didn’t catch half of what she said because of her accent and the speed with which she spoke.

When we asked her how the inflated watermelons tasted, she gave us what I call a “Southern answer”; it was a metaphor. She likened them to the Lexus of watermelons and said the rest of her fruit were Toyotas. We didn’t understand exactly how that translated into taste, but decided to take her word for it and buy one anyway. She also introduced us to yellow and orange watermelons that were just as sweet as the red ones. I recommend trying one if you get the chance.

Before we could leave with our monstrous fruit Blondie started chatting with Adam. She bluntly asked him about his medical condition. He volunteered some information which then turned into a very long conversation. We learned you can’t shop at this stand if you don’t have an extra hour on your hands. She seemed genuinely interested in learning about his issues. Sometimes she would interject her own medical knowledge passed down from her great-granny who was a nurse. This information came from a woman who thought the cure for a snake bite was putting salt pork on the wound (which didn’t work by the way and landed her daughter in the ER). She took quite a liking to us, though it was probably because we stood around and listened to her.

She was sweet, but the rest of her crew was unbelievably rude. Not rude with mal intent, but they had no manners! They personified people who would answer “yes” to the question “did you grow up in a barn?” I think they did. Their hair was unkempt, their clothes dirty, and all of them smoked like chimneys. Her kids, who were at least in their 20s and old enough to know better, would yell her name from one side of the stand to the other like a three year old would repeat her mother’s name just to get attention. Their strong need to ask unimportant questions was inexcusable, or maybe they just wanted attention like a little child. If the question pertained to customer service, then I might have halfway understood their need for an immediate response, but it was totally unrelated. Another child (or hired hand and more like a man) interrupted our conversation by blatantly speaking over us. He didn’t even preface the sentence with “excuse me.” I was shocked. But, I guess that’s how you learn to have your voice heard in a barnyard full of animals.

Even with her rude crew, Blondie’s gift of gab gave the fruit stand a certain flavor. It was like she welcomed you right into her home and she hid nothing behind closed doors. She took an interest in her customers, remembered them when they returned, and ultimately entertained the entire stand with her stories. She made the business memorable just by being her. Oh, and the watermelon was pretty good too.