A Farmers Market Vignette

In August, guiding a box truck onto Tyler Street in preparation for our farmers market was challenging. Three rows of tents, more vehicles, and even more people filled the street then; all bustling to arrange wares before the market bell sounded. We drove in carefully and unloaded quickly. We looked over our shoulder while setting up tables to check if the path remained clear. When it wasn’t, we negotiated with kind neighbors to clear a route. There were tight lips as the truck’s high white wall cleared craft displays by a few feet. There might be a short round of applause as the truck curved away to freedom. Then the path would close as the market began and Tyler Street filled with shoppers, vendors, dogs, and children. Setting up the Red Dog Market Stand in August was a kind of dance and it raised the heart rate the way any dance might. Never too much, but enough to notice.

In November, a different energy rolls through Tyler Street. Two rows of tents line the perimeter. Fewer trucks and bodies move through colder morning air. Even the bell comes later; who knew the time between 9 and 10 in the morning could hold so much room to breathe. Our truck is still large, but the stacks of vegetables within are smaller as peak harvest calms. Our crates are heavier – potatoes, radishes, beets, and winter squash fill our tables now–but the truck’s exit path lingers longer than before. Market vendors have more time to talk to each other, offering congratulations for surviving peak season and bittersweet anticipation for the market’s conclusion in late December. 

The truth of it, I think, is that you need the spin of a busy season to feel the gifts of its slowing. We have a little more time to talk to visitors in the Red Dog tent. One might learn of a customer’s plans for their beets and leeks. One might hear more of someone’s story; how exactly does a person find themselves here, on Tyler Street in the late morning? One man remarks, “How sweet it is to be somewhere where everyone isn’t in a hurry.” I agree, smile, and remember August.

~Solomon