I once was a little girl filled with dreams. I am now a slightly older girl with longer legs and bigger dreams. Few things have changed and my enthusiasm for glitter and my hate for spiders have only escalated.
I used to imagine that my Saturdays would be filled with all sorts of exciting things -- days when I could hold my own set of keys in my hands and fly by my own whims and fancies. However, since those days have come, my most exciting Saturdays are often the ones when I have the freedom to do very little.
The Saturdays when the morning begins with a cup of coffee or two, and I can take my time gathering my hair and pinning it lazily on the top of my head, before I buckle my new shows and head down to the farmer's market, where the street buzzes with a lazy sort of busyness.
It's crowded, but in a sluggish sort of way. Everyone knows that we are not there only to grab our tomatoes, we are there to talk to the farmer who makes the very best goat cheese, and to profess our appreciation for the woman who makes some pretty fantastic croissants.
And the flowers, oh the flowers… There's something about fresh flowers that makes my heart beat a little faster. In a drug-like fashion they calm my anxious conquer-that-evergrowing-to-do-list mindset and make me smile even when I spill my coffee all over myself or forget half of what I needed from the grocery store.
Cockscomb is one of the best things. It looks like a ball of fuzzy happiness. Or maybe that's just me...
It's a calm, familiar sort of adventure, and one that I am more than happy to repeat many times over. The produce will be much appreciated in the coming week.
For now, I stow away my market tote until next Saturday and wait eagerly until I can ogle flowers and eggplants once again.