where the writers are
Summer Marketing on a Saturday

 

 

27 degrees at 9 30 in the morning in my western burb of Montreal, I set off early to Ste Anne de Bellevue''s farmer's market to buy some organic veggies for the week. (I think Montreal and Ottawa were the hottest places in North America yesterday, after Las Vegas, where my son is going today. He lives in Ottawa!)

 

From my house, it's a fairly ugly drive down a very flat boxstore-framed stretch of highway,but at least its not winter, as that particular place is a skating rink after a snow storm.

 

 

 

and then we cross the Ile aux Tortes Bridge, where over the decades I have come close to meeting my Maker numerous times, especially during the years they were effecting repairs.

 

One time at midnight, as I drove to pick up my husband through an obstacle course of orange pylons, a 16 wheeler came at me from the side with lights blasting and horn blaring, and I just gunned it, not knowing what to do. I am still here, so, clearly, it worked.

 

Another time, I drove across the iffy span in pea soup fog, my head out of the window, and yet another big truck honked impatiently at me from behind. I was going too slow, you see.  He was above the mist, I guess. Jerk!

 

And there's the time, when my first born was a baby, that my husband and I were stuck on the bridge for hours in a bumper to bumper traffic jam. He put our baby on his shoulders but the baby fell off onto the concrete pavement of the bridge I almost passed out. I was furious at my husband. But luckily babies are resilient Later we learned that an .entire family had been crushed to death  a few hundred feet ahead of us on the same bridge.  A truck loaded with logs had toppled onto the unlucky tribe. I was no longer furious at my husband.

 

 

I got to Ste Anne and passed the Old Harpell building which I wrote about in an earlier post.  This is where Edward Beck, crusading reporter, worked after my grandfather likely got him drummed out of the journalism business. Read Milk and Water

 

 

So I got to Ste. Anne and actually found a parking space as it was still early. And then I walked toward the market.(Ste Anne is where Flora Nicholson of School Marms and Suffragettes went to school in 1910.)

 

I strolled past the boaters, all oiled up and naked - a la Quebecoise. Sorry, I just got this bald guy cleaning his windshield.

 

 

 

 

Down the boardwalk.This is the stand at the market where I buy my organic veggies in summer. The farm is in Les Cedres, near the Ontario border.

 

 

 

Here's a video of the market, like any other market, anywhere in the world. French and English spoken here, though. ( I LOVE looking at world markets on YouTube.)

 

Researching School Marms and Suffragettes, using the 1911 census, I was surprised to see that in 1910 Ste. Anne de Bellevue was a very wealthy place. The salaries were very high here compared to elsewhere in Quebec. It was the summer home of some of the rich industrialists, you see. And that wealth trickled down to the shopkeepers and burgers.

 

I returned home with 30 dollars worth of organic veggies, basil, coriander, celery, zucchini and even Kale as kale is good for you :) and then, on the way home, stopped at Hudson to visit the French baker, for some baguettes, but there was too long a line up.

 

So I went to the IGA which was bustling (people anticipating the 90 plus degree afternoon, I guess) and bought some soft French bread and yeast to make my own pizzas.

 

And then I stopped at the SAQ for some wine. If we are  going to have Mediterranean weather, I'm gonna eat like a Mediterranean. Wait! I already do. Even when it's 20 below zero. Especially when it's 20 below zero. (My poor brother, he lives in Copenhagen, which is having the same putrid summer  as England. But he does own a place in Plomari Greece. I emailed him to invite him to Montreal the Summer Vacation Paradise on the St.Lawrence or St. Laurent as they say.)