By Vickey Bell
It's Market Day! My mind is willing but my body mumbles fifteen more minutes. Okay, ten more minutes and then it's "up 'n at 'em!" A retiree needs to shake the routine up a little bit...going to the Hillsborough Farmers' Market on Saturdays to {wo}man a booth for myself and Farmer Brown for the eight o'clock opening is my choice. Not one to greet the day quickly, "up 'n at 'em" means getting up around six-thirty so there's time to quietly ease into wakefulness.
It's Market Day! My mind is willing but my body mumbles fifteen more minutes. Okay, ten more minutes and then it's "up 'n at 'em!" A retiree needs to shake the routine up a little bit...going to the Hillsborough Farmers' Market on Saturdays to {wo}man a booth for myself and Farmer Brown for the eight o'clock opening is my choice. Not one to greet the day quickly, "up 'n at 'em" means getting up around six-thirty so there's time to quietly ease into wakefulness.
Don't get me wrong, I am capable of jumpin' up and goin' but it really must be important. Catching a flight, oversleeping, someone pounding on the door...these are a few instances where taking time to blossom into a considerate human being is just not possible. My sister needs her cup of coffee before speaking; I need enough time to see without squinting my eyes, time to shake off the hazy brain fog and time to fill my growling belly with a leisurely breakfast.
Breakfast is a huge factor in my retirement routine. As my eyes clear and the brain haze lifts, homemade bread (finally, a no-fail bread recipe) is toasted on the darkest setting, an egg is in the frying pan (sometimes poached or scrambled, I'm not completely anal) and King Cole tea is steeping in the pot. This all takes time. Time that coaxes me into the day. Time that sets a smooth, easy cha, cha, cha rhythm throughout the morning, afternoon and evening.
One, two, cha cha cha. Hello World!
Here I am! How's it goin'!?!
Fully awake, the drive through Dawson is lovely, even in the rain. So many shades of green in the trees and bushes. Such beautiful flowers blooming in people's yards and along the side of the road. Purple columbine has self-seeded in several places. Once I saw a gawky pileated woodpecker on a telephone pole. Even the wait for the solar-powered traffic light to turn green offers up a chance to peak into the dark woods to see if the wildlife living there might be crossing a path.
Breakfast is a huge factor in my retirement routine. As my eyes clear and the brain haze lifts, homemade bread (finally, a no-fail bread recipe) is toasted on the darkest setting, an egg is in the frying pan (sometimes poached or scrambled, I'm not completely anal) and King Cole tea is steeping in the pot. This all takes time. Time that coaxes me into the day. Time that sets a smooth, easy cha, cha, cha rhythm throughout the morning, afternoon and evening.
One, two, cha cha cha. Hello World!
Here I am! How's it goin'!?!
Fully awake, the drive through Dawson is lovely, even in the rain. So many shades of green in the trees and bushes. Such beautiful flowers blooming in people's yards and along the side of the road. Purple columbine has self-seeded in several places. Once I saw a gawky pileated woodpecker on a telephone pole. Even the wait for the solar-powered traffic light to turn green offers up a chance to peak into the dark woods to see if the wildlife living there might be crossing a path.
Market Day in Hillsborough (photo by Dale Aube) The former Hillsborough Baptist Church sanctuary is an ideal venue for the market. Special thanks to Oliver for helping fulfill the market vision. No longer used to worship the creator in a formal way, the space is now a place to come together and enjoy the camaraderie of the local vendors, listen, sing, or play along with the talented musicians of Celtic Path, and to "catch up" with friends and neighbours.
The aroma of perked coffee, breakfast sandwiches and waffles teases me into a second breakfast and sometimes "elevenses" like an undernourished hobbit. Imagine slathering a bagel with some of the homemade jams and jellies available. Hmmmm, I wonder if the meat vendor would cook up some bacon. Imagine a fry-up with fresh local eggs and honeyed bacon! If you've missed breakfast, check out what's sizzling on the BBQ outside.
You can keep the drippings off your clothes by wearing a jazzy apron or kid's bib, keep your head, hands and feet warm with knitted items, drink from an artisan's pottery mug and wash up later with crafted soap. You'll find jewelry, art, spices, teas, pickles, sweets, veggies and dog treats. For a small, local market, the variety of vendors continues to grow. There's even a free table for local charities to set up and raise awareness for their causes.
Soooo, when the alarm wakes me with CBC chatter on Saturday mornings this summer, I will not press snooze. I will take on this new adventure from daily routine and I will "See you at the Market!"
The aroma of perked coffee, breakfast sandwiches and waffles teases me into a second breakfast and sometimes "elevenses" like an undernourished hobbit. Imagine slathering a bagel with some of the homemade jams and jellies available. Hmmmm, I wonder if the meat vendor would cook up some bacon. Imagine a fry-up with fresh local eggs and honeyed bacon! If you've missed breakfast, check out what's sizzling on the BBQ outside.
You can keep the drippings off your clothes by wearing a jazzy apron or kid's bib, keep your head, hands and feet warm with knitted items, drink from an artisan's pottery mug and wash up later with crafted soap. You'll find jewelry, art, spices, teas, pickles, sweets, veggies and dog treats. For a small, local market, the variety of vendors continues to grow. There's even a free table for local charities to set up and raise awareness for their causes.
Soooo, when the alarm wakes me with CBC chatter on Saturday mornings this summer, I will not press snooze. I will take on this new adventure from daily routine and I will "See you at the Market!"
About the Author: Vickey Bell was born and raised in Albert County. She is six of eight born into Margaret Steeves' clan. She has been retired for three years and indulges herself in gardening, reading and supporting causes in the surrounding communities.
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