So ever since the commuter train has extended its run to our county, DH has begged—well everything but—to take a day and go for a ride. So today we did. We went to the “city”—almost two counties away—riding on the upper deck and enjoying the morning view. I’ve ridden trains before. Around LA, Between Philadelphia and Manhattan and in Tokyo. And at various airports. So it wasn’t necessarily something new (though it was the first time we rode on a double-decker), but it had the feel of the previous times: it felt like a vacation. Like an adventure.
At our destination we walked to the large farmer’s market at a park (scariest / humblest part of the day was passing the gathering of people waiting for a center to open up and serve breakfast. One of the men was still asleep on the sidewalk. I tried to assume a carefree look—but golly! How do you pass by life-on-the-edge and not be affected.)
I love what can be found in a farmer’s market. (Notice this couple’s matching yellow bike outfits. When I’m their age–that’s how I’m going to live.)
I loved looking at pottery and jewelry and tasting scrumptious stuff like the red pepper, pomegranate, molasses and walnut dip. And listening to musicians and watching a juggler. I also got more heirloom tomato varieties for next year. (My favorite this year are the blush tomatoes that I eat like candy.) Since we were travelling light, I kept my purchases small.
Next we walked to the station to catch the public transportation to our favorite health food store. Everywhere there was something to enjoy.
At the market we picked up some lunch—including my favorite coconut yogurt—and ate it in the sunshine. So between the Farmer’s market and the health food store, I was feeling a bit like a hippie.
On the long ride home, we chose a seat at ground level and DH napped.
I watched the mountains pass by and old buildings and abandoned machinery. And realized that almost everything in life is temporary: ripe tomatoes, young girls who still juggle only objects, trains waiting at a station, warm weather when sleeping outside is still an option, planters filled with flowers, and bookstores. Everything changes—the good and the bad. We laugh, we cry, we go to school, and we move on. Only the mountains and the sky remain. Now that’s my hippie wisdom.