We’re already halfway through this year. Halfway through this decade. And if you grew up in the ’80s and are secretly hoping the Terminator would show up at the dawn of the 21st century, well, we are almost there. Unless, of course, the Terminator now goes by the name ChatGPT or one of its AI cousins.
Don’t get me wrong, we’re grateful for AI. It’s useful. It bails us out when we miss a deadline and need to whip up an image at the last minute. It helps when we can’t find an illustrator (or did not give them enough time for creative juices to flow) or when our coffee hasn’t kicked in enough to write a coherent sentence. But let’s be honest, AI also removes us from what’s real. From each other. From the messiness and beauty of being part of a living, breathing community.
Sure, it’s fun to chat with something that flatters your grammar and never interrupts you. But nothing beats the real thing: friends, family, neighbors, and shared spaces. And during Utah’s golden summer months, there’s no better place to find that human connection than your local farmers market.
Farmers markets aren’t just about tomatoes and greens. They are where the community shows up in full color. Where you bump into your neighbor, discover a new salsa that makes your mouth water, and meet the pasture-raised beef rancher whose practices you respect. These markets are loyalty-building grounds. You start returning week after week, not just for the produce, but for the people behind it. You become faithful to your egg lady, your jam maker, your sourdough baker.
It’s no surprise that farmers markets are popping up everywhere in Utah. And they’re evolving. They’ve become our unofficial cafés, places where we sip coffee, smoothies, or lemonades, sit on the grass, and eat burritos from food trucks while soaking up the sun. If you came alone or your only friend right now is an AI voice on your laptop, you might just strike up a conversation with someone who also came for cucumbers and left with connection.
In this issue of Utah Stories, we shine a light on farmers markets across the state. We also had the chance to visit with Lambert Growers, where Kim and Charlie, the real people behind your hanging flower baskets and veggie starts, shared their hard-earned tips for a successful garden. I’ve spent 20 years managing to kill just about anything I plant, so I was especially grateful to learn a few tricks from them.
We didn’t stop at vegetables, though. This issue also includes something sweeter than locally grown cherries. We explored some of the best places in Utah to get ice cream, because for many of us, that’s the true taste of summer.
But we also know life isn’t all picnics and peaches. Toward the end of the magazine, we shift gears to tackle more serious issues, like the growing crisis of affordable housing in Salt Lake City and the impact it’s having on everyday Utahns. It’s not an easy read, but it’s an important one.
Every month, we’re overwhelmed by the number of incredible stories our contributors bring in. Fitting them into just 64 pages is never easy. But for this issue, we’ve curated a mix that celebrates the sunshine, community, and joy of summer while also remembering those who are still struggling to meet basic needs. Why? Because even if we do not like our neighbors enough to empathize with them, life is unpredictable, and tomorrow we could be them.
If you’re an illustrator who still believes in the power of hand-drawn charm, human quirks, and storytelling with soul, we want to hear from you. Utah Stories is always on the lookout for artists who can bring life, grit, and humor to our pages. Reach out to golda@utahstories.com.
