If you haven't been to a farmers market, get to one this year. Do it for your body. Do it for your soul.

I recently read an article about happiness in which the author asserts that happiness in a person's work is nearly equivalent to happiness in one's life. You'll see no clearer demonstration of this than at a farmers market and that is one reason I like them so much.

Yes, it's the fresh food: The tender spring onions, the delectable, seed-studded, fragrant strawberries.

But it's also the hothouse tomatoes in late May, real stunners made more stunning when my exclamation of surprise at their beauty was taken up in the face of the old farmer who had tended them over the cold months. The subtle twinkle of happiness in his eyes at the compliment at producing such early spring joy -- that made us both happy.

A few weeks ago, I went to my favorite market, the Original Farmers Night Market in South Fayette. It was our third trip there this year, and on this cool Friday night, the number of vendors was up to about 15, from just a handful a week before, reflecting the progressing growing season.

The crowds had swelled, too. An old woman in a wheelchair caught my eye. She held a potted flower in each hand and kept them steady as she was pushed around to look at the wares. I had to guess that being outdoors in this bustle, acquiring two spanking new plants to nurture, was happiness to her.

The Mediterranean food vendor was back, selling great tabbuleh and fresh lemonade. Lean and young, he worked swiftly, digging out salads and pitas from his stock, jogging back to make lemonade, counting out change, giving a nod, a thank you and a smile to customers.

The woman selling wild Alaskan salmon explained her product to a customer, pointing to a chart showing where it was caught.

The bread vendor, generally laid-back, was working at a brisk pace; the demand for cranberry/walnut and honey wheat loaves was steady.

We bought a loaf of soft, egg-rich challah; my husband bought a spicy sausage sandwich, so hot the vendor tossed it back and forth in his hands as he wrapped it up. "Ouch, ouch, ouch!"

We sat at a picnic table and ate.

The Original is not in an especially pretty place. It sits off Route 50 , west of Bridgeville, on a large concrete slab, under a corrugated metal roof. Farmers and vendors back their trucks right up to it, unload their wares onto tables and the marketing begins, often hours after the farmers and helpers have left the fields.

You'll see no sartorial splendor on them. Those T-shirts and hats, aprons and jeans have been around the block.

But to me, it's lovely enough to bring me back again and again.

I feel little stress there. Things slow down when you're chatting to a farmer who is proud to explain how to use an herb she's grown. There's no need to rush when selecting a bright-light-green head of leaf lettuce from the pile.

There's only to eat, to admire, to soak in the good things that Earth gives us, and the good people who grow it all.

Farmers markets. They are happiness.

Resurrection Festival

Church of the Resurrection, 1100 Creedmoor Ave., Brookline, will hold its annual Fun Flair Festival from 7 to 11 p.m. Wednesday through July 12. Wings will be served Wednesday; chicken marsala, fish and a pasta bar on the subsequent nights (412-563-4400).

Portuguese cookout

Downtown's Cultural District will be hopping on July 11 with a gallery crawl and, down in Katz Plaza, the third annual Cafe Zao Portuguese Cookout. Chef Tony Pais' party -- featuring grilled specialties from his homeland such as Portuguese sausages and sardines as well as grilled chicken and salmon and assorted side dishes and desserts -- starts at 4 p.m. and costs $20 ($10 for children 12 and younger). Wine, beer and bottled water cost extra (call 412-456-6666 or visit pgharts.org).