Sunday, April 1, 2018 8 miles
Today was going to be a family day. A brother and his family were visiting from out of town, so those of us living out here on the Best Coast – three other siblings, mother, a cousin – were gathering for a late brunch.
That meant I had the morning to take a ride. I’m finally recovered enough from a cold (thanks for sharing, Suzanne!) to do a somewhat longer ride. I have a general idea of doing a regular loop I hadn’t done in a while to see if there are new ways of showing you old stuff.
When I stopped at a light before crossing a road that leads to downtown, however, I noticed other cyclists with panniers and several pedestrians with backpacks and bags. What’s going on? Oh yeah – the weekly farmer’s market is today. One person was returning with some beautiful flowers. Ding! Lightbulb goes off over head. Flowers would be a lovely thing to take to brunch. And since I’m taking a few extra days off this weekend perhaps some real food could be cooked.
So, course change. I weave my way through people, parked cars, leashed pets, strollers, wagons, and other bikes to get closer to the market. I park and do my usual wander to see what’s there, sampling the most wonderful strawberries and oranges. The chard is spectacular. That asparagus looks good. A cafe and grill has been added since I was last here. The bread line is long. A three-piece band is playing some bluegrass with many children standing before them, enthralled, and an older couple doing a slow dance together. Someone is going around with a PA system announcing the kids’ Easter Egg hunt at all the booths will start at 10:30; I better get out of here before then. See, I haven’t been to the farmer’s market in a while because I get overwhelmed by the choices and I don’t have the patience to deal with the crowds.
I go back to the asparagus and then realize I don’t have enough cash to buy it, nor to buy any flowers. Ack. So I make the supreme sacrifice for my family. I ride out to an ATM and come back – I backtrack! And not only that, I am at the market during the egg hunt, and it is jammed. I take a few breaths, gather some patience, then wade in to get the flowers. I am encouraged by an older gal with a strong accent to buy the flowers I actually want, two bunch five dollar. I get five bunches for fifteen dollars and we’re both happy. I move on to see what vegetables I want but all I can handle is the asparagus. I then flee to home and thence to the bosom of my family, where I explain often and at length about the sacrifices that I made for them this morning.