It was a sad, sad day on Capitol Hill this morning. We woke up to learn that our beloved Eastern Market, the 130+ year old, continuously operating market in the heart of Washington, DC had been gutted by fire. Gemma and I took a walk over to the market this morning. Although the fire was out, you could smell the smoke in the air blocks from the scene.
The place was busy with police, fire and tv crew activity. Small groups of residents clustered together trying to learn more from one another, all the while shaking their heads in disbelief. Early morning dog walkers lingered longer than usual letting their dogs sniff every tree and shrub. Swimmers in flip flops arriving early to workout in the pool next door to the market picked their way carefully around the glass and charred debris that littered the ground.
The market is closed on Mondays; I don't think our loss will really sink in until next Saturday. On Saturday we'll realize that we won't be able to pop in for sage darby at the cheese monger, or drop off our knives to be sharpened by the butcher, or pick up perfect spring tulips from the florist, or run into one of our friends and neighbors doing the same thing. In fact, it may be years until we have these happy days at Eastern Market back. I just hope that we can rebuild the market quickly and the community that so relies on it comes back quickly too.
I took some photos.