On Saturday mornings I treat myself.
In the winters, I make bakery runs. In the summer, I visit farmers markets.
I love waking up early on Saturday mornings. Neither of us can sleep in anymore, anyway. I enjoy a cup of coffee, take the dog on a walk, and head to a farmers market during the opening hour.
My favorite low-key market near us is the Midtown Farmer Market in the Longfellow neighborhood. This year it’s located in the Moon Palace Books parking lot instead of the lot near the YMCA. I kinda love the vibe.
I visited my mom’s grave for the first time.
For the first time in four years and for the first time, ever.
On Saturday, it just felt right to sit with her for a while.
Finding myself without flowers, I left a stalk of spring asparagus at her grave. It was either that or the rhubarb.
I planted the stalk inside a tiny pot of yellow calendula my father must have left. I’m sure he was rather puzzled when he visited on Sunday.
When I left Lakewood, I sought consolation in Potter’s Pasties.
The crust was rich and flaky. Jake and I split a traditional pasty and one filled with pork and apple.
They made me feel a little better.