My friend Valerie spends the summer on Prince Edward Island, or at least a part thereof, and in past summers we often find ourselves at summer’s end realizing that we didn’t get to see each other at all. And so this summer we got together on one of the first Wednesdays that the Charlottetown Farmers’ Market was open mid-week, and have managed to repeat that, by cunning happenstance, every Wednesday morning since.
The Market being the Market, we’ve been joined by Special Guest Stars every morning: Sandy one week, Ann another, Ray this week and last.
The Wednesday Farmers’ Market is a very different beast than the Saturday one, especially the summertime Saturday market, which, with its throngs of tourists, is reaching a conceptual breaking point (I’ve resolved, after railing up ideas like “no tourists before 11:00 a.m.” regulations, that I need to just accept and release and go with the flow). Not only are the aisles clear on Wednesdays, but everyone’s calmer, and vendors can spend more time chatting with customers.
Another way it’s different is that our breakfast smoked salmon bagel provider isn’t at the Market on Wednesdays, leaving me casting about for other options. Today I opted for waffles from The Breakfast Guy. This is not, in and of itself, remarkable but for the fact that in 25 years of going to the market, I’ve not only never been a customer of The Breakfast Guy, nor paid his booth any heed. Such is being a creature of habit. And such is the power of Wednesdays to help break that. The waffles, with a side of potato, were very good, and I will be back.
Before I knew what happened, it was closing in on 11:00 a.m. and there was work to be done, so I decamped back to the office.