Photo by Anne Preble on unsplash
Would you wait in line to buy some apples? Would you queue up for a chance at fresh-picked corn? When was the last time you were tickled with the tomatoes you purchased, or bragged about broccoli? Can you remember when you had fun buying groceries? Have you ever whistled to yourself as you left the market?
If you answered yes to any of these questions, chances are you've been shopping at a farmers market.
Buying and selling produce in a public market is one of man's oldest cultural activities. It allowed hunters and gatherers to settle down and civilizations to develop. And it's one of the last links holding modern society together.
In a world where most commerce is done by number-crunching machines, with cash cards and credit lines and purchase orders, and where most products are exchanged several times before they reach a consumer, a face-to-face or person-to-person transaction can be refreshing; when it occurs between the consumer and the producer who made the product, it is even more rare.
The public market, where real folks sell their goods to other folks, is as old-fashioned as a handshake. Malls are fine places to shop for bargains and you can't beat supermarkets for variety, but when it comes to customer satisfaction farmers markets are easy winners. Where else can you buy produce or baked goods directly from the hands that picked the fruit or kneaded the dough? Where else do the clerks not only remember you, but set aside items they know are your favorites?
Some people come to a farmers market looking for great deals; others expect to find a better grade of egg, a tastier tomato or an organically grown melon. There are those who browse and those who taste and those who have lists of needs to fill. All of them get more than they bargained for, or can say.
It is not just the strawberries or the peaches that attract these folks to the market, as fresh and wholesome as those items may be, but the carnival-like atmosphere of the booths and the direct contact with producers and other shoppers. And as for growers, the weekly "market day" offers not only a place to sell crops, but also a chance to meet and talk with people, tell stories and make new friends.
For within most public markets there is as much culture as in any library, though most of it is not written down or classified. Without words, the progression of seasons is explained. Folks learn to identify herbs and flowers, calculate purchases in their heads and predict when corn with ripen.
Without asking, the buyer finds out how to prepare okra, why organic produce costs more and what mulberries look like. There's also plenty of talk about the weather, the progress of this crop or that, an exchange of recipes and pest control strategies, and a sharing of news and histories and stories both sad and funny.
Direct contact is the most precious commodity of the farmers' market -- direct contact among growers and consumers. Only by knowing the producer can the buyer know how a product was grown or made or raised. And only by knowing the buyer can the producer know what is needed and what will sell.
"I have often thought that if heaven had given me choice of my position and calling," wrote Thomas Jefferson, "it should have been on a rich spot of earth, well watered, and near a good market for the productions of the garden."
A good public market can be as important to a town as its public library or parks. As with feasts and marriages, public markets transform personal acts into communal events, making theater out of shopping. The exchange not only puts food on tables and cash in farmers' pockets, but also creates an unseen but precious bond called a community.
It is not just tomatoes and onions and salmon for sale in the market, but a way of life. Buying its produce not only affirms a community, but feeds its members, growers and buyers alike.
At the farmers market it's okay to dicker and ask questions. Joking and storytelling and gloating are usually tolerated. And whistling to yourself is to be expected.