Here’s to Farmers’ Markets

As I walk through the farmers’ market, I’m struck by what is going on here. Beets and chard gleaming in their baskets. The smell of chili peppers roasting over an open flame. Knots of people chatting and laughing. A farmer’s child perched on a box behind the stand, in full Halloween dress – pointy hat, orange hair and striped tights. Fresh, handmade tortillas warming my hands in their tin foil wrapper. Painted gourd vases and jalapeño cheddar bread, smoked salmon and fresh oysters. The laughter, the smiles, the music that has the bread man dancing. It’s a place alive and vibrant.

Farmers’ markets are starting to become more common here in the United States. But in much of the rest of the world, open-air markets are a long-standing tradition – the market square, the plaza, the bazaar. From Asia to Europe to Africa and South America, farmers and artisans have always brought their wares into town to sell them to the townspeople.

We Americans have been mesmerized in the last few decades by the convenience of the megamart. You can get anything, at any time of the day, any time of the year. But as I walk through the farmers’ market, my eyes are opened to so much more.

Yes, the food is enticing – crisp and fresh and almost glowing. But stop for a moment and just listen. Do you hear neighbors greeting one another? Do you hear farmers chatting and laughing with people as they move through?

It’s the end of the season now and the market is winding down. There’s a bit of sadness mingled with the fog. But even as the leaves drift down, there’s the promise of tomorrow. “See you next year!” “You can find me at the holiday market too.”

That promise is about more than just next season. No matter how citified our lives have become, here at the market, we have a chance to touch the earth. To delight our eyes and our tongues with fresh, carefully tended vegetables. To actually meet the farmers themselves. And their children, costumes and all. Think about it—just the fact that these children are here is a sign of hope. Here’s a whole new generation of farmers who are growing up connected with the people who are nourished by the food they grow.

There’s a sigh of relief, barely audible even to ourselves, when we know that our farmers will be here week after week and are even finding ways to keep a few of these markets open through the winter. We all know we need food. At the market, we start to realize that we need the farmers too. When I hold a beautiful, fresh bunch of spinach in my hand, I begin to appreciate just how much they contribute to my life.

The food, yes—it’s beautiful and delicious. I just feel better when I use it to create a meal for my family. But as I look around I realize that food, the ultimate gatherer of people, is helping us restore our communities.

We come to the market for the vegetables, but we walk away with lighter hearts and cheerful smiles. Food brought us here and, almost without our being aware of it, food is helping us rebuild those connections so vital to our own lives and to our neighborhoods. Here at the market, we can slow down, listen to the music, stamp our feet against the cold, run into an old friend, make a new one. Little by little we become stronger as a community.

Don’t get me wrong—farmers’ markets are no panacea for the social ills our cities face. But they are moving us in the right direction. Lao Tzu, the Chinese philosopher, said it best:

Cultivated in the individual, character will become genuine;
Cultivated in the family, character will become abundant;
Cultivated in the village, character will multiply;
Cultivated in the state, character will prosper;
Cultivated in the world, character will become universal.

translated by Lin Yutang: http://www.terebess.hu/english/tao/yutang.html#Kap55