Abundance

Ahhh. My spirit is filled with the sense of abundance, which has been helped along by my full tummy after eating a delicious cantaloupe from the market. And this picture typifies the Bellingham Farmers' Market this morning: fruits and vegetables galore, with summertime flowers around every corner.

These big beautiful dahlias don't appear until midsummer around here, and I think they are some of the most magnificent flowers I've ever seen. There is nothing quite as elegant (to me) as a perfect rose, but the dahlia bursts out like fireworks, a joyous shout of amazing colors. The market was crowded today, although the low clouds and breeze made a light jacket necessary for most of us. You can tell the natives from recent transplants: light t-shirt or blouse with nary a sign of discomfort, while here and there you might see someone walking around with a parka and gloves! I was in the middle.

The buskers were in fine form at the market today. I hadn't seen this group before, playing simple but catchy tunes, probably their own. Their sign let me know I was listening to the "Rattletrap Ruckus," a very appropriate name. Although you can't see the accordion player very well, or the bass "broom," they all played together quite professionally. (In case you are not familiar with the term "busker," this Wikipedia link tells you its meaning.)

I took eight books back to the local bookstore to receive a credit on my account and walked out with four new ones. I cannot help myself: I only intended to get one, but they reach out and grab me. It's out of my hands. Another reason for feeling abundant: four new books to read!

I will be really happy when the pool at the YMCA opens up again on the 15th; I think it would have helped me recover more quickly from last weekend's lower back sprain. This morning I was able to walk with the Fairhaven walking group, but I'm thinking I'll probably skip the skydiving tomorrow. Although it would probably be okay, it was while I was packing up that I wrenched it, and I don't want to take the chance that I'll hurt it again. Next weekend will be soon enough, I tell myself.

I can always change my mind if I wake up tomorrow totally pain-free and rarin' to go...
:-)