a new ritual | the Nelson Saturday market
Once you have a home base that’s not a tent it doesn’t take long to establish some habits. Old ones like getting up at six and feeling like crashing after nine are hard to break.
One new habit is a typical Nelson cliche, visiting the Saturday morning market, just whizz down the hill and four minutes later I’m wandering the organic veggie stalls, an extensive variety, fresh corn in season, apples and stone fruit, etc, you can even get kale, if you are up early.
There’s plenty of other paraphernalia on exhibit:
local cheese;
alpaca socks;
smoked fish;
caramelised cashews;
handprinted tea towels with local themes;
gluten-free sweets;
two-pairs-for-$15 earrings, is there a profit there?
a stall selling only jars of peanut butter;
oil based insect repellent, might well be as ineffective as its competitors;
gourmet marshmallows;
next door to gluten-free shortbread;
thick woolly vests made from what looks like chunks of wool ripped directly from black sheep;
a seated massage, $15 for 10 minutes;
heritage tomato seeds, great demand;
organic blueberries;
Blackbird Valley Forge large and dangerous knives of various idiosyncratic designs, like the end of the spanner or lots of deer antler-style handles;
and not forgetting sacred jewellery to heal migraines, tennis elbow, over-acidity, lack of mobility, poor elimination, actually, just about any complaint you can come up with . . .
I am an early bird, in and out, mostly, like everyone else, people watching, peeling off for a scheduled coffee with an old friend . . . all over by 11.