Mags and I went to farmer's market specifically for a crepe.
We walked around, checked out hand-crafted goods. Tasted goat cheeses, and admired tomatoes.
We then waited in the crepe line for ONLY 30 minutes (I'm being serious, that's a short short short wait). I chose the banana foster one: bananas, caramel, cinnamon=amazahzing.
We made friends with a retired football coach of 40 years and his old pup, the crepe dude taught us some french (he hails from Brittany, France) then sat on the court house grass and inhaled the perfect crepe.
Farmer's markets end on Halloween here, and I am already dreading it, There's something about markets that just make me content and happy, and feel at home.