At the Market

            It didn’t take long to fill my striped beach bag: a couple orange beets, a cucumber and a large tomato, a bunch of carrots and a bunch of radishes, a pound of green beans, a baggie of sprouts, and two loaves of bread.  The four ears of butter cream sweet corn I carried in an old Walmart bag, and I balanced the half flat of blueberries and raspberries in front of me.  I was looking for the place to turn in my raffle ticket.  Bees buzzed around my head, landing in the blueberries, swooping down for the corn, hovering around the top of my bag.  Still, I trudged on, scanning the perimeter of the Coupeville Farmers Market, never once thinking about simply asking someone.  Brushing away bees and balancing berries finally got to me, and I gave up my quest.  As I walked back toward the parking lot, I suddenly had a new problem:  my waist pack, already cinched to its smallest setting, worked its way off my hips and slid down to my knees.  Laughing, I felt like I had won the lottery.