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Smell of earth and green. Like the first bright brush strokes on a canvas.

Friday lemonpickle and I drove to Burnaby to pick up his wee dog from the shiny new vet hospital, which is exactly like a person hospital except that it has free coffee. And the procedures are not covered by Medicare. We left home at eleven a.m. and returned at about the same time. Gorgeous weather on the ferry. We sat outside the whole way over.

Saturday was an excellent arrangement for a day. inlandsea and stitchinmyside visited the half-market. This week it wasn't snowing -- it was a perfect market day. Still not very many booths, but there were Z. and her teas, which is all that really matters. Her booth was lovely in the sun -- silver glints of tea packets and new metal rack and steel bowls, indigo cloth. chromemagpie would die.

Brunch at the Moss Rock Cafe. Since it is a quirky and excellent place, the forces of capitalism are shutting it down to put government offices into the building. I would rather have cafes than government any day. We can't eat paperwork. Well, I can, but you probably wouldn't like it.

I will miss the abrupt but affectionate service, the steadfast refusal of debit machines, the boxes of tarot and other cards set out every table, the idiosyncratic hours of operation, the ungarnished but very good food.

Argh.

But we were celebrating. The Fairfield Artist's Tour! Either I was coming to it refreshed this year, or many of the artist have got quite a lot better. stitchinmyside and I agreed that this was a difficult message to convey with the proper positive note.

At one studio, wonderful landscapes -- horizons, gestural, acrylic in very liquid gel medium poured and worked over flat backgrounds.

At another studio, we got to play with oil sticks, which, as the artist said, are just like drawing with lipstick. They made working in oils seem less arduous and alarming.

The studios are often in the heritage houses of the neighborhood, and it felt as good to be inside a really well-made, loved, aged house as it did to look at the art.

After the tour, we were inspired, of course, so we went to Opus and bought canvas and oilsticks and mediums and other sticky and difficult-to-get-out-of-carpet things. Reflect with me again on the excellence of hardwood. Calving gloves would not have gone amiss.

And we ate Noodle Box specials and were supremely happy. As I recall.

Sunday was greyer and more fragmentary, but I actually got a remarkable amount done. It just didn't feel like I did. You know those days.

And now it is Week Start instead of Week End. Heave ho.

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