When pumpkins appear at Top Banana at 15th and Northwest 65th I know that the end is near.

Soon there will be no more Top Banana until spring, except for the Christmas tree lot, and it's not like I need to pick up a fresh tree several times a week. January through March are long dark months when you've come to depend on owner Jimmy Wild's energy to light up Ballard.

What is it about Jimmy? Is it the fact that he carries a knife that makes him so direct? Have you ever been to Top Banana Produce for a watermelon or a bag of compost? Did it seem like the owner already knew you, even though it was the first time that you had ever been there? Did he cut into a peach and hold out a slice to you on the edge of his knife, with the juice dripping onto the flooring? Have you ever seen him when he was actually still?

I don't remember how many years it has been since Top Banana opened on the northwest corner but I recognized Jimmy from a produce stand on the Eastside. A drive-thru espresso next opened on the lot named Jimmy's Jumpin' Java, a name which makes perfect sense. Jimmy is jumpy. He's always in motion as his fingers pick through the greens and restack the peppers. He believes in greeting every customer, "are you finding everything? How's it going today?" He can chat but he never stops working.

When Jimmy asks, "how's it going?" I've been known to spill my secrets, my frustrations, whatever else I'm carrying along with the red basket draped over my arm. One Mother's Day he listened to my petty parental disappointment and in turn told me about his son. Feeling purged I went home to put on a smile and slice $17 worth of fruit. I don't really know Jimmy and he doesn't really know me, but for the minutes that I am at Top Banana, I could swear he's known me all my life.

Top Banana has a band of young employees who have been well trained, able to feel for fruit that's too soft, extend tastes on the edge of a knife. But when Jimmy is there, he greets me as though I shop there every day. In July he puts aside less slightly past apricots so that I can make my jam. He's been known to tap a watermelon and hand it to me as a gift if I've forgotten my reason for stopping in the first place.

Wild seems like he would hard to work for; obviously he demands a lot of himself and his products - he wouldn't expect any less from his employees. "Sometimes they come back a few years later and admit they learned a lot from me," he told me. "That maybe working for wasn't so bad."

The last few seasons have been very tough - floods in California one year, hail in Eastern Washington, rising fuel costs. Jimmy keeps pushing. This fall he plans to stay open through October and then close on November 5, the day after the election. He'll reopen the day after Thanksgiving with Christmas trees. "I need to sell a mountain of trees," he said. "I need to sell every last one to be able to get through this winter."

Schools and organizations stop by to pick up food donations; school groups visit. The years fly by. I remember when his son was in diapers, now his Little League picture hangs prominently behind a cash register. Once when I was pulling out Jimmy grabbed the shoulder of a freckle-faced boy while mouthing at me, "this is my boy."

As if the look on his face wasn't blinding.

When Jimmy is still you can see the deepening lines in his face, but he is so rarely still. Occasionally he seems to look to the future for a moment, probably calculating his margins for survival as he thinks of the miles to Yakima he travels every week, the s pump. Running the numbers over and over in his head. But, "how are you doing?" he asks, and whatever is on my mind comes spilling out - green grocer as confessor.

He hopes that with the economy people will choose to stay in Seattle over the holidays, preferably with a tree from Top Banana. When his lot opens he strings lights so bright that from the top of Phinney Ridge it's the most visible Ballard landmark by night.

"Mountains," he said again. "I need to sell mountains of trees to survive."

Peggy Sturdivant writes a series on neighborhoods for CrossCut.com and also writes additional pieces for the Seattle PI's Neighborhood Webtown: http://blog.seattlepi.nwsource.com/ballard/. Her e-mail is atlargeinballard@yahoo.com.