Long before we saw them yesterday, we could smell them. And we followed our noses until we came directly before the booth at Byward Market where the ramps were being sold. They were $.75 each bunch of six heads with their long bright-green spade-like greenery attached, or three bunches for $2.00. We took three bunches. One of which was destined to end up, neatly chopped, in my husband's anticipated omelette at dinnertime. I chose snipped fresh chives from our garden, instead. Along with heaps of fresh-grated cheese; Swiss for him, marble-Cheddar for me.

Many years ago when our children were young and the Gatineau Hills became our second home from season to season, we would be on the lookout for them in spring, watching for the appearance of the fresh green leaves around the trunks of trees in wilderness areas not seen by many, waiting to be plucked by us. Only later did we learn that it was illegal to pick them. We picked only enough to munch on while we hiked, fresh out of the ground. We knew them then, as wild garlic.

When we decided to hie ourselves off to Byward Market on Victoria Day yesterday, we knew we'd have trouble, once arrived there, finding a parking spot. At one juncture we despaired we would, and then we discovered one awaiting us, right beside Elizabeth Bruyere Health Centre. A wee bit of a walk to the Market from there, but nothing strenuous for us. We'd hiked a whole lot further earlier in the day, through the ravine on our daily ramble.

On the way, driving along the Airport Parkway, we saw more cyclists than usual; walkers, hikers, people strolling with their pets, pushing strollers, riding in wheelchairs, out to enjoy the wonderful weather and the holiday. The trees are filling out to full maturity and everything is green and fresh and alive. At the Market, right in the Market, it was so crowded it reminded me of forging our way through crowds in Shinjuku. There were buskers out everywhere, and even a traditionally kimono-clad young woman playing the koto.

For sheer atmosphere there is nothing like that venue.

And thousands agree with that estimation, throngs of people sitting in the outdoor patios of the many cafes that proliferate at the Market. Where we moseyed about, entering our favourite specialty cheese shop, and the magazine shop that has in its long narrow interior seemingly every newspaper and magazine published for a public involved in exploring the never-end sources of news analysis, literature, crafts, home interiors, world news and fashion, along with more obscure and fascinatingly exotic topics.