Impressions of a Farmers' Market

Saturday, September 19, 2009 started out just like any other. I rolled out of bed, blindly made my way to the bathroom and started brushing my teeth. As I lazily brushed each side of my mouth I thought about the day’s activities in a sleep induced stupor. I knew I had to do something of significance today, but what was it, I thought as I brushed my tangled hair. “Kick-off against Duke is at 11, is that it?... No, a mere football game would not be bookmarked in my subconscious,” I thought as put in my left contact. “I’m sure I haven’t finished all of my homework…but that is pretty typical for a Saturday morning…” I posited as my vision was clearing somewhat. “Homework. I know it has something to do with homework…” I put in my right contact, blinked, and in a moment of total clarity, remembered “The Farmers’ Market! That’s it. Today I am going to the Farmers’ Market for a class project!” Satisfied, as the day’s agenda had finally come to me just as clear as my own corrected vision, I threw on some jeans and a t-shirt, grabbed some cash and my car keys, and headed downtown. When I got near the general vicinity outlined on my assignment’s prompt, I did not see anything resembling a market of any sort, save tons of people who clearly knew more about this event than I did, as they walked with purpose, on their way to a hidden valley of fruits and vegetables, a Kansan’s land of milk and honey. Others, walking away from a general area to the left, seemed to walk with something else. They walked with a sense of content, a sense of satisfaction and an armful of produce. I knew I was headed in the right direction. As I got closer, I followed my nose to the smell of “Barbeque?” Confused, I took another whiff. “Yep, that is certainly the smell of cooked meat and summer. That is definitely barbeque,” I decided, as my hunger to reach this mysterious destination grew like my own intensifying appetite for breakfast. “Who’da thought? BBQ at a Farmers’ Market!” As I approached the entrance, my sense of smell proved correct. Underneath a large white tent to the left of the opening to this event, a man was smoking some pork next to a large white sign advertising everything from organic beef cutlets to chicken breasts. I continued walking throughout the market and was surprised yet again. Across from the BBQ station, my eyes fell upon the rare ethnic delicacies of baba ganoush, spanakopita and Lebanese Turkey pies. Blown away from surprise, I slowly made my way to the next vendors. This duo was selling baked goods and soap. Although I first thought this an interesting combination, as I moved closer, I realized the connection between these two seemingly unlike items was that both looked absolutely delicious, and good enough to eat. The soaps, which were casually formed, actually looked like cookies, and were scented like edible confections with everything from vanilla almond to watermelon. I was beginning to see what made this such an extraordinary event. While I milled around the market, I began to notice something else peculiar. Aside from the random looking smattering of produce, baked goods and barbeque, the people at this event were like no others I had seen at any grocery store I had ever been to. These people were enjoying themselves. Unlike the usual haggard, tired countenances of the overworked mothers who frequented the local Dillon’s, these people looked happy, relaxed and overall excited to be there. No one looked agitated or in a hurry. Children were safe and free to run around. Laughing with happiness, toddlers and teens alike were savoring cinnamon rolls and talking to friends or parents. This was an event, an event to be celebrated, and was treated as such. Live music from hand-made instruments filled the air as people danced in the parking lot. This event’s attendees included both strangers and old friends. It was obvious that some of the people in attendance shared a personal camaraderie with the people they were buying from, as they asked about health and family. A high school reunion appeared to be in full swing, as a group of old friends gathered underneath a sign that said “Class of ‘67” while drinking coffee and talking about children. An hour and half and a bouquet of flowers later, I left the Farmers’ Market with a wealth of knowledge about this extraordinary event, a turkey pie in my stomach, and a feeling of content, like the people I had seen before. I felt content knowing that this event brought people together. I felt content knowing that in this world of schedules and work hours that you could find people gathered together at least once a week, buying wholesome food and generally enjoying their lives. For that reason alone, the Farmers’ Market is truly exceptional.