Last Thursday I was perusing the Burien Farmers Market (open from 11:00 to 6:00) when I ran into my favorite flower vendor. They happily met me with kind smiles and inquired, “What you like today?” He said with an amused grin.

“Hmmm, I don’t know, I like all flowers. Can you make me a bouquet of the yellow Lupine and the white daisies?”

“You don’t like these already made up?”

“Yes, but I like those in the back better.”

“Ok, no problem, she make you a big bouquet.” Says the smiling fellow.” I certainly hoped they remembered me, or they would just think I was a persnickety customer—you know the type—the sort of person who carries floss in their pocket. Tooth floss that is.

“Can I take your picture for the b-townblog?” I said with what I thought was a winning smile. Hopefully that spinach quiche I had at the 909 Coffee and Wine wasn’t residing between my two front teeth. Not a good look.

“Oh no, we too old and shy.” Says the smiling apple-faced woman. Her partner readily agreed with her as I took a people-less picture of flowers. As I walked away, my friend Trixie greeted me.

These flowers are a deal at $8.00 a bunch!

“What are you up to now?” She said with a knowing look.

“I wanted to take a picture of my favorite vendors and they declined because they are old and shy.”

“And dirty.” Shouted the old, shy women. “You come back next time and I have on clean apron, then I ready for picture.” I swear she started preening as she barked her remark across the aisle.

“It’s a deal, see you next Thursday.” I bellowed back at her.

As I wandered from the market up the street, I ran into two city workers. Finally, the dead light pole was being restored.

“Hey guys, you two look pretty busy, is this an all-day job or what?” I jokingly said to them.

They both paused in their labors and took a much-needed break while I told them the story I wrote for the b-townblog about the dead light post.

“Really?” says the overly eager repairman. “Do you want to take my picture? Do you think I should have my tool belt off or on? Can you get a shot of my face from that angle? It should probably be an action shot, don’t you think? Maybe I’ll be famous.” He joked; at least I hope it was a joke.

After his “candid action shot” I asked him why there were always four or five workers standing around a man hole and shooting the breeze as one guy threw dirt out the hole.

Putting up a new light post for our fair city.

“Well, one of the guys was probably holding an extra shovel.” He said with a hint of a grin.