Today is the monthly community market in my little town. Every month, we buy a bag of Granny Smith apples from the nice apple lady.

Usually, my wife takes care of it, pulling a heavy bag of apples home in a two-wheeled trolley. Only, she injured herself a few weeks ago, and I’ve been playing mother. Thanks to some combination of acupuncture and the passage of time, she is getting better, but not yet up to a three-kilometer walk and hasn’t driven the car yet. So, it was my job this morning.

The weather forecast promised thirty-five degrees. (That’s the sensible Celsius scale. It’s ninety-five on that F thing.) First hot day of summer. When I set off at about eight in the morning, it was pleasantly warm. Towing the two-wheeled trolley, I decided to combine a little exercise with walking meditation, and soon found myself in the Nowscape. I stole the concept from Jon Kabat-Zinn, but he doesn’t mind. How does it work?

Whatever my attention focuses on is full, two-hundred percent vivid. That attention is allowed and even encouraged to wander, but always with complete focus. So...

The smooth rhythm of the muscles in my leg, identifying each stretch and pull by name.

The light breeze moving the fresh green leaves on that tree.

The scent of lavender from a garden I am passing.

Birdsong.

A fly buzzing around my nose.

The thought that, sadly, there is only one fly annoying me. A few decades ago, there were thousands of insects for each one alive today.

The blue sky, gently moving little clouds.

Walking. Left foot forward, meets the ground, rolls from heel to toe, glutes tighten, center of gravity advances, right foot forward... on and on.

Across the road, a father watchfully follows his little girl leading a brown dog. The girl is running, the dog strolls along with her. They pass a low timber fence, and a boy about her age runs out and joins her.

From within my heart, I wish them all a good life.

Then the thought; I should write all this down.

A big white dog is taking a middle-aged woman for a walk. We smile at each other (yes, all three of us), and two of us say “Good morning.”

This is repeated from time to time with other dogs and their followers, each time with full focus from me, and my unvoiced sending of lovingkindness to both the human and the canine person.

A young woman is straddling a bike, one foot on the ground, a cute little miniperson in a carrier seat behind her. Poking out of the gateway on my right is the front wheel of another bike. A dad is putting a helmet on a little boy. Smiles, greetings, sending lovingkindness as I walk by. They ride past me a short while later, the boy with a look that reminds me of a hero going off to face the dragon.

More walking meditation, in rhythm with an internal song. That is allowed: merely another target coming and leaving the focus of the Nowscape.

Here is the market. Regular arrays of marquees and open stalls, most selling junk I have no interest in, but I bless them and wish them a successful day anyway.

A fellow wants to sell t-shirts with inscriptions I wouldn’t wear if you paid me.

Enough socks for an army of millipedes, but I’d bought socks from her last month. She is worth a smile, a greeting and a secret blessing.

Home-grown honey. That would be fine, but we have some in the cupboard already.

Tools that would have grabbed my attention twenty years ago, but now I have more tools than I need, for activities I no longer do. May he sell them all today.

My friend, Judy, is in her stall, selling hand-crafted things too hot for the coming summer, but she does it more for fun than a livelihood nowadays. We have a good chat. She is the focus of the Nowscape, then I move on.

People milling about, people in their stalls (no, no, not like horses but in their little mobile shops), each worth a smile and a secret blessing.

Here is the apple lady, her truck in the usual spot. She is doing good business, and I join the little crowd.

At home, my wife and I had counted out twelve dollars in coins—useful for her as change, but just extra weight for us. Now, I hand them over. She accepts them without counting, and I tuck a bag of crisp green apples into my trolley. I move on, looking for leek seedlings. The two garden guys have every kind of plant but leeks, so I leave for home.

As I pass the apple lady, she grabs me, well, not physically but with a wave. She insists that I’d given her too much, and hands back about three dollars in loose change. We have a nice chat. Wouldn’t the world be a better place if everyone had our view of money?

On the walking meditation home, I detour to go past the place of the little old Croatian lady who grows vegetables the way her ancestors did in the Old Country. She has them under the shade in her driveway, with an honesty box for your payments.

We don’t really need anything she’s selling, but I notice bunches of lovely flowers, marked down from $8 to $6, then to $1.99. I decide to invest two dollars of the apple lady’s honesty—both to reward the veggie lady’s trust and to bring a little joy to my wife. An hour of my life, spent in heaven.