At about 3:30 everyone had their act together and the smells of tamales, chicken and Bar-B-Q started wafting. I spent some time checking out the herb plants for sale and decided that next weekend I'm turning the garden bed that's closest to my front door into a serious herb garden.
Nothing in the world is better than hanging out around stands where the french baker sells his bread, pastries and pasta, and the dairyman sells his homemade and home-milked cheese, and the hippie couple sell sugar juice (isn't that just sugar water?) with a big sign that says it increases energy - duh - and they chop the sugar cane in front of you to make your drink.
The best thing about the market were all the people from the neighborhood wandering around oohing and ahing at how great it was that we finally had our own market. I, myself, couldn't wipe the stupid grin off my face. It seemed fitting that the market take place in the parking lot adjacent to the corner where folks often sell churros and fruit. It was even more appropriate that this lady watched over us.
Mel couldn't come with me. No dogs allowed. This is the sad face that she made when I told her she'd have to stay home alone.