The street sweepers are out in Burbville today. For some reason, that always puts a smile on my face. Street sweepers and that yellow spring green that we’re experiencing right now in my neck of Canadaland. And if the garden centers are any indicator, we’re all suffering from premature gardening.
I confess I’ve been to the nurseries a time or ten already. And I’ve been poking and prodding around my flower beds with the best of them. Them being Canadian gardeners across the land. The Great White North. Land of two seasons — winter and
bbq construction. Mostly, I’ve been doing winter clean and tidy. Yeah. I have the Polysporin and Band-aid covered fingers to prove it. Good thing I didn’t waste any money on a mani last week when I had that pedi. The mani is reserved for weddings and the occasional anniversary. Gardener, know thyself.
Last Friday, I zipped into the city with G-Man to visit the world-renowned St. Lawrence Market on Front Street, established in 1803 with the first farmers’ market. It’s comprised of three buildings — South Market, North Market, and St. Lawrence Hall. South Market is home to some 120 purveyors of fresh fruit and vegetables, fish, meat, cheese, baked goods, grains, and specialty items. That’s where you’ll find me. Me — sitting on a counter stool, diving into a peameal bacon on a kaiser roll sandwich. It’s a right of passage at St. Lawrence Market.
Only not this visit.
This visit, we took advantage of the beautiful sunshine and warm temps and had lunch on the patio of Pastizza just across the street. It opened late last summer, but was new to us. The G-Man had classic spaghetti and meatballs, which I tucked my fork into so many times, I thought he might stab my hand.
My own dish of spinach, ricotta, and parmesan stuffed agnolotti topped with a sauté of wild mushrooms, white wine, and toasted walnuts was downright naughty. It was rich. Decadent. I think it would make a superb appetizer. Perhaps, two trimmed-out pasta packets. Everyone was having a good time, soaking up the sunshine right along with their fresh pizzas, bombas, and pasta.
Time to walk the market.
Which brings us to Single Shot Monday.
You know my love for signage knows no bounds. None.
Go on. Click it bigger.
That sign gives me a Monday morning happy.
I’m of two minds this morning. A Monday divided.
Monday morning happy above.
Thank you, Shirelles. (1961).
It is a workity-work day after all.
Where are you on this Monday divided?