Our winter
farmers' market opened on Saturday.
It's been a long two months since the end
of the summer markets, especially for
people who
prefer local
foods nowadays. Not surprisingly, the place was packed, making
it hard to even approach
some vendors. That's
ok, we'll see them next time. I
got the essentials.
I could spend paragraphs waxing poetic about getting all the
ingredients for a complete meal, even in winter, from
grains and breads to all kinds of animal products and vegetables -
even fresh fruit (persimmons!). Or that you can get prepared
foods too, including soups delivered to your home or office - by
bicycle.
But, as I began writing, I realized there was something deeper I
brought home. Something we can't eat, but is nourishing nonetheless.
Essential, even. It's the intangible at the heart of any local market
or small business, the heart of the whole local food “movement.”
It's the relationships established between farmer and eater. No two
are alike, nor can they be franchised. They're what make each
conversation and transaction unique, each business healthy and the
overall community strong.
They're also why it takes me a long
time to get through any market. My husband has learned that if he
comes with me he'd better be prepared because it's gonna' take a while.
Winning Fate's Lottery
I realized long ago that we live in
an exceptional place and I feel
truly fortunate to have landed here.
I'm also fortunate in that I've gotten to know most of the
farmers at the markets over the years, through interviews for
articles I've written about them, or various events I helped organize,
including a farmers' market in our rural neighborhood a couple
decades ago. I've worked a few farmers' markets myself and sold
produce I had grown at some, and elsewhere.
In fact, it was two of the vendors from our rural market who
moved our winter market into town where it might attract more
customers. Did it ever! That was the market we squeezed in to on Saturday. They've done a fantastic job, but it took a few years and
more work than people realize.
We have no clue what it takes for
the vendors to prep and set up for markets (early hours, sleepless
nights going through mental checklists, and preparing for all the
customers who stop at the ATM on the way and expect change for a $20
right off the bat). That doesn't include all it took to grow,
harvest, process and store their produce, grains, meats, eggs, honey,
nuts, etc. If we knew, we'd realize what a bargain local food is
and not waste a morsel.
The Key Ingredient
But it's the relationships I found myself thinking
about after leaving the market. I've known some of the vendors since their first year in
business, before their kids were born, or at least when the kids were
pre-schoolers barely able to count a dozen, let alone make change.
The memories make me feel both old and in awe.
Farm kids often learn lessons their friends in town don't. They're
literally surrounded by the family's livelihood (or at least part of
it). They're hyper-aware of seasons and weather and likely had
to pitch in when weather or harvest was overwhelming, or a critical
worker couldn't be there. They've probably pitched in at markets,
doing lots of heavy lifting to unload and set up. Maybe they dread
the hours of having to tally figures in their heads under the
scrutiny of customers (it's exhausting) and count change.
Or, interact with people when they feel really
uncomfortable doing so (think puberty). Maybe they raised the animal
whose parts are coldly listed by the pound on the blackboard, named
it and fed it every morning before school, or grew the strawberries
on display, missing a friend's birthday party because the berries needed to
be harvested and prepped for market.
Can't Keep Them Down on the Farm...
On the way home from the market I thought about conversations that day, and:
The farming couple I knew even before they were married and their
son who is on scholarship at Harvard. He grew up on a vegetable farm,
but his parents and grandparents had science degrees and he inherited
the gene. Where will it take him?
The kids of another couple were home-schooled by their mom, who
works at a hospital, and dad, who is a full-time farmer. Each market
season they were a little taller and less shy. Then, one summer the
oldest son brought goods to market and sold all by himself. None of
the kids were at this week's market; I look forward to learning what
they're up to now. As I purchased meat that I know they helped
raise, the mom and I got distracted by using my credit card with her
smart phone, a transaction neither of us could have imagined when I
first met them a decade ago. She had spent the evening before
figuring out how to allow customers to use that same technology with
pre-paid farm cards. Even the parents are still learning in this
ever-changing world.
The daughter of another vendor grew up in a home without
electricity or running water, by choice of her parents. It's a
lovely house in the country with lots of hand-crafted features by
the parents, sometimes with wood grown on the property, whence also
comes the wood for the heating and cook stoves. She grew up without a
television, a gift that stimulated her imagination, as did her love
of books even before she could read. She learned to make just about
anything she wanted to play with. She, too, was home-schooled the
first few years and when she eventually took the bus to school in
town, she was ahead of her classmates. Today, she
travels the globe giving talks in front of big crowds of "techies"
for the software company she works for. I watched a you-tube video of
one of her TED-like talks. Much of it was in a technical language I
don't understand, but the essence of that little girl shone through
the lovely, self-confident woman I saw onscreen. Someday she may want to settle down. When she does, she'll already know how to plant
a garden, preserve its bounty, raise animals and keep bees. In the
meantime, “Oh, the places she'll go!” to paraphrase a favorite
book.
The daughter of another vendor who, 20 years ago, impressed
me with her strong work ethic when she was barely in grade school, is
now a medical doctor.
The son of another just started a year abroad in South
America, near where I spent almost four years. Yes, I'm envious!
Another vendor has no kids, but has been dealing with her
husband's life-threatening illness. While she looks great and was cheerful for someone
so stressed, I glimpsed in her face the age I felt just thinking about all
those grown kids.
What I brought home from the market was a reminder that there is depth to
conversations with people you've known for decades that transcends
the purchase of any item or even chat about the rivers reaching
flood-stage outdoors.
Few items at a farmers' market have labels but, if they did, the
relationship with the vendor should be listed as a key nutritional
ingredient.
