By Sarah Darville
After losing their jobs, the Marandos find farm living is the life for them.
Sweat dripping down her neck, kiwis in each hand, Chelsea Marando dashes to the crooked baskets of fresh corn. She adjusts the bins, then picks up an ear and peels back one of its leaves. The white kernels sparkle like pearls.
“Isn’t that gorgeous,” she says.
She looks up, on to the next idea. “I’m gonna go feed my pigs. I wonder where they are?”
It’s Saturday morning at Marando Farms, a one-acre farmers’ market and nursery improbably wedged between Broward General Medical Center and the Florida East Coast Railway tracks in Fort Lauderdale (1401 Southwest 1st Avenue).
Steps away from customers, hundreds of tiered pots hang with vegetables in rows labeled “Tomato Terrace” and “Pepper Parkway.” Eggplants peek out from their leaves at ankle level, sprouting from the lowest containers. Lettuce and herb seed beds float on top of a small pond, waiting to be transplanted. The sticky air smells of dirt.
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