To market to market

After a good little gym session with another good friend and climbing partner, she and I dropped by the Ballard Farmers' Market, another outdoor event similar to the one in my neighborhood, only older and bigger. She was on a mission to acquire certain items for her household, and I was just meandering along, eating every free sample of just about everything offered, since it was mid afternoon and I'd been clambering for a couple of hours. The heavy morning fog had finished melting away, there was a lovely coolish breeze, many fine odors wafting about: Freshly picked stems of mint, lamb sausages, vegetarian stir fries, gigantic baroque-looking handmade pretzels, strawberries, flowers, and incense. Huge dewy heads of cauliflower were piled high at one farmer's stand. For $2.00 per, I couldn't resist getting one, along with a big bunch of cilantro for a buck. Yeah, I'm a sucker for a nice head of cauliflower...
There were a couple of young twenty-something guys playing decent covers of Dylan, energetically belting out how "the pump don't work 'cause the vandals tooks the handles!" We went into a little plant store called the Palm Room to get an asparagus fern my friend espied. In the little shop, the real Dylan was urging everyone to go out and get stoned.
Home again home again.