Each city a person lives in has its own... unique feel. I can't say special because sometimes we don't see the special parts of the city. I have a REAL hard time finding the beauty in Provo sometimes.
On Saturday mornings since I don't have to work early, Adam and I usually sit in the living room and do nothing. Watch a movie, play Scrabble, take long showers, relax etc. This past Saturday I decided to take our puppy for a walk, so we both could get a little extra exercise. And right by our house is a park and I discovered as I was walking the dog, that every Saturday morning during the summer it holds a Farmers Market.
It was an amazing day, the ground green and the air didn't smell like dust. It was clear and warm but not hot. There were white tents lining the sidewalks in the park, people practicing rock climbing in the tree branches. One man was sitting in the picnic table area playing his guitar, and women with their kids were painting faces in the grass.
The booths were displaying anything homemade or crafted that could be found. Homemade brooms, home grown plants, jewelry from necklaces, earrings, bracelets. There were handbags and aprons and table cloths, hair bows, headbands, ribbons. There were tons of people with their kids, their someone, their dogs. Fatjona was making friends with animals who could eat her in three bites.
There was a man making fresh cotton candy, and tons of tents full of food from Mexican, to pastries, drinks, and hot dogs. It reminded me of the Saturday's Markets I used to go to with my friends in down town Portland. During Saturday's Market there were painters under the bridge, people in short shorts and Tye-dye, and always enough food that you could hardly recognize the smells of marijuana underneath it all.
Of all the things that I never thought I would miss, the Saturday's Market was definitely one of them. I think the longer I am from home the more I miss home and everything about it. I miss the people in their homemade clothes, their pets, their talents. Yes, I even miss the smell of weed sometimes.
There is so much life teeming in Portland. I think after years of living in a community like Provo, I became blind to anything outside of BYU college life. I think my favorite part of being at the Farmers Market that day wasn't because I was reminded of home, though that was a factor. It was because I saw a life and a world that was so familiar to me, yet all its own at the same time.