Life should be tasted one bite at a time
Happiness often happens quietly; just like some surprises, they will come gracefully in ordinary life scenes.
I like to visit various markets, from flea markets, snack night markets, to antique streets, grass alleys, flower markets, etc., they are all places that I enjoy.
The reason why I enjoy this soak so much is the atmosphere. Atmosphere is a kind of taste, very subtle, which can trigger the wings of imagination to fly in the sky; atmosphere is like a cup of fragrant tea, which warmly and tenderly nourishes the different seasons in the heart.
It takes about a quarter of an hour's walk from my residence to a Jewish elderly community. Every summer and autumn, there is a regular fruit and vegetable market on Thursdays, which takes place lively from noon to dusk, rain or shine.
You will see a group of expectant spectators, some carrying baskets, some dragging carts, looking leisurely, some licking ice cream, or tasting cheese, colorfully intertwined into a picture of people coming and going. I am very satisfied if I can stop and appreciate it.
On a summer day when I was about to say goodbye, on an afternoon with cool breeze and bright sun, I once again came to this street corner that was familiar to me but felt fresh and dazzling every time. I first browsed through the items with a grateful heart, and at the same time, I listed the purchase orders in my heart. I am grateful, because the weather is sunny, and I can take a leisurely stroll under the white canvas tent filled with sunshine. I am grateful, because I am a "freelance worker" and I can spend this week's afternoons enjoying the luxury of spending time with retired elderly people. In this theater carefully created with fruits, vegetables and delicious food.
Seeing handfuls of plump water spinach, it was a memory in my childhood heart, and I felt excited. I recall that in those days, water spinach was chopped into pieces and mixed with feed to feed chickens. Every time the memory disk turned to this scene, it would unconsciously evoke the rhythm of chickens pecking at each other. The familiar menu at the noodle stall is always a plate of hot blanched water spinach, bright green, sprinkled with bits of minced white garlic, and thickened with soy sauce. It is crispy and smooth. I don’t know how many times it has appeased my hungry stomach. .
As I walked, I saw all kinds of strange-shaped tomatoes, with thin skin and tender flesh, and one with a little butt that looked like a baby, so cute! I couldn't help but want to touch a few. The small truck next to it was loaded with all kinds of freshly baked bread, standing there energetically, as if waiting for a military parade. The fruit stall opposite contains attractive peaches in wooden boxes, all posing in beauty contests for you to judge. The corns, still in green clothes, are as plump as a sturdy fat baby, crowded into several corners. If you go around a few more times, you will feel like you are the master of the harvest.
Also, the jars of home-brewed honey are as clear as amber, with lavender and mint leaves floating in the bottles, which makes people's hearts overflow with sweetness. In comparison, the beef seller seemed bored and kept looking at the few unused freezers. But the turkey pie not far away is selling well. It seems that "white meat" is indeed more popular than "red meat".
Um! Cook a pastoral meal tonight, enjoy the rewards of the Creator, and comfort yourself. However, I first brewed a cup of locally made "almond, red currant and rose tea", and let the aroma of the tea lead me, drinking against the sunset outside the window, and savoring it carefully.
＊Good words and beautiful essays are selected from the third cup of life soup "Song of Heart Garden"