Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Two Markets

Not long after I set out, I realize the bike ride from home to the farmer's market downtown is almost the same distance as from our cottage to the market in Elberta. All summer, I rode those six miles on a trail that follows the Betsie River, past turtles sunning themselves on logs, water the color of milky tea, and numbered bluebird houses.

Also sweet peas growing wild.

And campsites.

And homes of people who live here year-round: snowmobiles covered in blue plastic tarps and parked in front yards, snow plows unhinged and set beside the garage, gardens already bearing fruit, unlike mine, planted in mid-june and still has only blossoms.

I have moped around since my return to the city, fretting the noise and the air-conditioned air.

Riding along this hot pavement, I am finally glad to be home. And it is an abandoned building which brings me joy. I park my bike and look inside each of the shops, their back walls busted out and letting in sunlight.

I am hot. I have sweat running down my back, along the sides of my face. Drops of it rest in the curve of my eyelashes. My water bottle forgotten, I cannot believe the peace I feel at being back in this rundown place. Right then, I decide that I will take pictures of this trip, to share here with you, because I have been trying to understand how Sophia felt, returning to Moscow after a summer at their country home. I thought she would have been sad, like I have been, but maybe by leaving and coming, she was able to see the beauty in both places.

 

I love the symmetry of these two doors.

 
An empty lot beside the house is now an urban garden.

 

Years ago, a giant clock on the side of this pet shop used animals in place of numbers.

 

 

 

These wildflowers (as opposed to weeds) grow around a gray utility box. This is the last picture I take before riding on to the farm market, where I buy corn, red potatoes, 2 cantelopes, and pork burgers.

For lunch I eat a saugage slider and a roasted Indiana sweet corn popsicle.

After that, on a whim, I ride to the fabric shop on Massachusetts Avenue. I buy three fat quarters of fabric by Liberty of London, which remind me of my story titled "Liberty," part of my current collection. It is named after the department store famous for these detailed floral prints. I also buy a pattern to make throw pillows for 17's bedroom and one button, shaped like a fawn.

I refill my water bottle in their bathroom and ride home.

 

No comments:

Post a Comment