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It is Sunday morning & my French friends will be going to the market in St. Antonin.
I love this tradition. Every week, rain or shine, the cobbled streets of this small town come alive with stalls of fresh produce, artisanal breads & cheeses, wines & pâtés, olives, herbs, spices, & more. The bountiful array of goods is a beautiful sight indeed & the profusion of smells & colors is exhilarating. But it is the congenial atmosphere that I love best. I love the friendly conversation with the merchants, who over the years one comes to know. I love to hear happy greetings of neighbors & friends as they stop to chat & say "Bonjuor". Certainly the freshness of the food is wonderful. But it is not only that the strawberries & melons were picked that morning, or that the bouquets of flowers still have dew on their faces, or that the eggs, still warm, sit in a basket of straw. It is the sense of connectedness. The Sunday market in St. Antonie offers a simple connection that nurtures both body & soul.
It is Sunday morning & my French friends will be going to the market in St. Antonin. I love this tradition. Every week, rain or shine, the cobbled streets of this small town come alive with stalls of fresh produce, artisanal breads & cheeses, wines & pâtés, olives, herbs, spices, & more. The bountiful array of goods is a beautiful sight indeed & the profusion of smells & colors is exhilarating. But it is the congenial atmosphere that I love best. I love the friendly conversation with the merchants, who over the years one comes to know. I love to hear happy greetings of neighbors & friends as they stop to chat & say "Bonjuor". Certainly the freshness of the food is wonderful. But it is not only that the strawberries & melons were picked that morning, or that the bouquets of flowers still have dew on their faces, or that the eggs, still warm, sit in a basket of straw. It is the sense of connectedness. The Sunday market in St. Antonie offers a simple connection that nurtures both body & soul.
