I skip the patio filled with tourists
under canopies surrounded by trees;
it’s nice to be sure, sunny and warm.
But I prefer the small table inside by the window,
a chance to look out into the world.
The lineup to order is longish,
giving me time to salivate over the offerings:
the Sicilian paninis and blackberry strawberry scones look appetizing.
So do the salads:
fruit salad;
summer faro;
broccoli, grape, and smoked cheddar;
marinated artichokes;
mixed olives.
All look delicious,
yet I opt for a BLT morning breakfast sandwich
and a strawberry rhubarb muffin.
The blueberry butterfly lemonade is tempting,
but I take a regular coffee.
Room for cream?
Yes, please.
In this café, one orders at the counter,
and the food is served at the table.
When the coffee arrives, it is filled to the brim.
No room for cream.
The server spills some as she sets it down, apologizes.
I pick it up and slowly walk to the cream station,
spilling a bit of coffee along the way.
The server follows me.
I can bring you what you need!
I tell her I am okay on my own.
I dump some coffee into a little sink and the server
immediately turns on the tap to wash it down the drain.
I pour some cream into my coffee and all is well again.
I am settled now and look around the café.
The walls are covered with paintings from local artists,
most with an Okanagan landscape theme,
but a few others as well:
a ghostly figure standing over a bucket;
a field littered with bales of hay;
a still life with a vase, flowers, three eggs, and a chick;
a bull with a broken horn and sad eyes;
a black VW Beetle with a black surfboard on its roof.
A woman at the next table is telling her friend
about a death in the family and the upcoming funeral,
but the friend keeps interrupting her,
and when the friend takes a breath,
the woman tries to continue her story with,
Anyways…
Interruption.
Anyways…
Interruption.
Anyways…
Interruption.
Well, anyways…
At the other occupied table,
there are also two women,
one who says,
Yeah, my brother is hiding from the Hell’s Angels.
But I have no idea where he is.
I decide I better not listen too closely.
I gobble down my sandwich,
eat my muffin slowly,
let my coffee grow cold,
and I think,
what a fabulous outing!
