I am here for the rhubarb.
People meander: the health-conscious mom with her kids, the impatient man shuffling after his wife, the couple with their dog, the lady with the long, gray hair carrying her cloth bags.
The vendors smile enticingly wanting you to try the homemade bread, the polish sausage, the just-off-the plant strawberries.
A man in a corner booth plays his guitar, a child stops at a Lego tray, an older couple sits behind their display of flowers.
The line for the mini donuts stretches long as always. I wait to get some but find them mushy and dry at the same time. I eat one and throw the other two away.
The bookmobile rolls to a stop at the edge of the tents.
The sun warms me and I walk the aisles and I look for the rhubarb.
Sold out already.
I’ll be back next week.