Picture this. Sunny summer morning, about 11:30. My lovely co-workerfriend says “Dude! Walk?” which on a Tuesday or Thursday could mean the farmers market. We head out, the breeze has a coolness that smells refreshing. The sun warms the AC air off my arms and face. As we head into the heart of DT St. Paul, we pass the State of MN office buildings with a feeling of belonging to something larger than we are, and then we pass the historic churches made from big red blocks and an even bigger feeling surrounds us.
Passersby have smiles of being out in the air and sun and we joke as we climb the hill towards Wabasha Avenue. You know you’ve arrived at the market because the smell of street food alerts your nose, and if you like hot dogs, your stomach. People are swaying in and out looking over the flowers and produce like eager kids. We do the scope- walk all the way down the aisle between the booths, eyeing all the goods, then, we swing back and purchase things like ruby red tomatoes and enthusiastic flowers.
When we head back to the office to eat lunch, we know that the day is half over, and the happiness that the walk to the farmers market brought will last even longer than the rest of the work day.
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