Watching the People Go By

In the sunny burg where I live, Penticton, on Saturday mornings there is a big farmer’s market every week from May to October.  All together it is about 4 blocks of market chaos.  {click farmer’s market  or Penticton to learn more}

One block is dedicated to farmers,  and there is all types of produce, and plants for sale at this time of the year. There is also fish, sausage, wine tasting, and everything of that ilk.

Another block is foods from thai food, samosas to artisan baking.

Another block is all types of things, from vinaigrettes to home made soaps, popcorn, perogies to amazing wood carvings.

Organized chaos, sort of organized but only sort of.

Yesterday I sat down on a bench to watch the parade of humanity stroll by.

  • Families with parents trying to keep track of energetic children,
  • Mommies pushing strollers,
  • Tourists,
  • People in shorts,
  • People without shirts,
  • Tall people,
  • Short People
  • Serious and joyful people

But what really struck me was how I was drawn to the body language of those people who held hands.  Men and women, sisters, fathers and sons,  best friends and young and seasoned alike.

The ones who were holding hands were most connected, most relaxed and obviously this is my opinion also, they looked the happiest.

Some locked arms at the elbow, some tucked one arm in the elbow of their companion and as they did you could actually see their steps start to sync as together they journeyed the noisy bustle of the bumping crowds.

But now people parted for the two of them, and the couples stopped together to admire loaves of bread or tomatoes ready to plant. In my mind I imagined their breathing syncing and their heart rate and blood pressure relaxing. The struggle to stay connected was gone.

Life seems often to be often to be about resolving conflicts and differences, but these couples were communicating, sharing and moving together as one. Such a simple thing, holding hands to talk, to walk together – planting unity and harmony with intertwined fingers and arms. 

annie-spratt-54462.jpgGo for walk with someone you care about soon, and when you do, get a little closer, and see what I mean. 

Thank you for taking the time, and sharing your day! If you liked this post, I would love to hear what you liked, thanks.


About dfolstad58

I live in the South Okanagan. BC. I enjoy reading, exercise, toastmasters. spending time with my son, my daughter, & her husband , and my patient wife. I try to respond personally to every comment on my blog, and in this way I hope to get to know my readers a little bit and and am able to thank readers for their encouragement on what they liked and suggestions on what they would like to see me try in order to improve.
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14 Responses to Watching the People Go By

  1. calmkate says:

    love the sentiments and how you have expressed them … very skilful, thanks 🙂


  2. leggypeggy says: a great post. A market AND people watching. Fantastic combo.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Barry says: observation from a great man. Enjoy the summer David.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. had never thought about it this way when my Sunshine & I hold hands. This is very insightful, and I like it a lot. Also? I wish I lived closer to Dallas because I’m sure there’s stuff like this around there.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Lynn says: look like a fabulous market to attend. Love your observations & your perspective!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. lovely pictures and I enjoyed reading.


    • dfolstad58 says:

      I am glad you enjoyed this post, thank you for taking the time to comment. I have visited London but there is much more of Britain I have yet to discover.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Don’t forget to come back. I have roamed around the whole of the British isle, I wish there was word press at that time and I could document my travel around the British Territory. I don’t ever think I will make that journey again, since I am now wanting to go further to far away lands to venture what is happening elsewhere. Working towards my dreams.


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