Farmer's Market

I walk curiously through the jungle of venders, and entertainers. Home grown, fresh vegetables, lay out in baskets for wanderers to look at. Bakers lay out their sweets, their aroma enticing passer bys. The sound of guitars and drums feels my ears, and I turn to see a small band to the side of me, a music case open, trying to get money for their talents. We continue down the street. Soaps, flowers and other scents feel my nose, each trying to get me to go to where they come from. I follow the flow of the crowd. They are friendly and helpful to each other as they walk the cemented side walk. Dogs of all kinds follow their masters, trying to get a bite here and there, of the fresh fruit being passed out. A piano player sits on a stool playing the large piano he towed to the park on his old bike. A hat sits on stool near him. There are homemade skirts, and jewelry booths. Their crowds are small, their prices far too expensive for the average window shoppers pocket. Trees shade me as I walk through the veritable circus surrounding me. Chatter fills the air, my friend and I laughing along, adding to the raucous. A horridly peculiar scent tingles my nose hairs. Together we search the booths to find the cause of such a disturbance on this pleasant day, only to see some form of noxious weed smoking on a table of a woman with dried herbs and small sunflowers. The melodious sound of drums comes to me as I look at dangling, loose knitted scarves. A girl dances in the grass by the drummer with hoops circling her twisting body. Colors and fragrances run in heavy abundance here. Finally we go, and leave the maze behind us.