Today, I came across a Farmer’s Market in the last place I’d ever expect to find one — downtown Toronto, deep in the heart of the financial district. It was wonderful, like being instantly transported from the concrete jungle to a country fair.
There were stalls selling baskets of raspberries, pyramids of tomatoes and huge wheels of cheese. All that was missing were the animals (unless you count the Bay Street bulls and bears — ha, ha, sorry, couldn’t resist!).
A long line of people waited to buy back bacon on a bun — the smoky scent almost led me there too. There was even a bandstand where a bluegrass band — base, banjo, guitar and electric mandolin – harmonized like they’d grown up together in the Smoky Mountains.
They were called the Foggy Hogtown Boys, however, and Hogtown is Toronto’s charming knickname, so I’m guessing they were local yokels.
(Bet you’re wondering when a good deed is going to make an appearance.)
I tapped my toes to the tunes for a while (Steve Martin is right — can anyone listen to a banjo without smiling?) and I spotted a flower stall.
I was going to get one blossom for myself, then I saw the sunflowers (another guaranteed smile starter). So I decided to get a whole bouquet to share with the office “pod” of desks I was working in for the day. When I got back, I put them in a vase and placed them on a meeting table in the centre of the desks so everyone could enjoy them.
It was all working out so nicely – until I found out that the “perfect” vase I’d found for the flowers in the office kitchen was actually a wine decanter.
“If any important clients come in,” snapped the receptionist, “those flowers gotta go.”
Not smile starters for everyone, I guess….