I love food markets, particularly farm stalls and organic markets. The tables of fresh fruit are a pleasure to peruse. The proud sellers of home-grown and homemade produce are the nicest people to chat with. There is a sense-of-being amongst people who grow and preserve fresh fruit and vegetables that can be described as a different connectedness. It is as if it is a community who are all rooted in the soil through the fingers. The same fingers used for planting and harvesting.
I love the seasoned farmer’s wife that displays her produce with confidence, secure in the knowledge of her craft. Our conversations are familiar. They cover the seasonal activities on the farm, the blessing of rain or its absence. It is a market-friendship, forged over many weekends of sharing stories and recipes of gardening and preserving.
I love the novice stall-holder. You can spot them from a mile away. The stall seems brighter, the stall-holder beaming, not worn down by poor sales and competing producers. They bring with them an enthusiasm for gardening that rekindles a nearly forgotten excitement within oneself. They have not been scarred by pests and diseases. The wonder of discovery of their new passion still prevails.