A Treat

As a producer who has sold exclusively at farmers markets for the last 22 years on Sunday, my ability to attend anything that happens on the weekends has been greatly curtailed. But this week, I will get to sneak over to the arts festival after market. It’s my one day of the year to feel like everyone else.

It’s also the one day of the year where we get pushed out of our usual spot for the alternative location at the Montgomery Farm Women’s Cooperative (the site of the Wednesday market) a couple miles away from our usual parking lot, which will be taken over by vendors of the annual Bethesda Row Arts festival. Look on the bright side, at least the market is no longer canceled like it used to be on this particular weekend.

While I enjoy seeing all of the artwork and doing a little shopping for myself, I like to cruise the festival to watch the vendors. It’s like being on the outside looking in. Who is sitting there glued to their phone? Who engages in small talk? Who is genuinely excited to show off their artwork. Who is exhausted and can’t wait to break down and go home.

A few years ago, when I was walking through the displays, one of the artists noticed my colorful overalls and squealed in delight, asking me where I had procured them. And in return as I gave her my attention and answered her question, I too, was struck by one of her pieces— a garden goddess metal sculpture with bright red lips, dangling hoop earrings, and a wild shock of barbwire hair sticking straight up into the air. Mine! I said and grasped the artwork hoping that it would be within my budget and it was. After carrying the hefty 6-foot sculpture through the festival and back to the co-op, my next worry was, will it fit in my vehicle. It did.

And so, every year since then I have made it a point to get myself one of their metal sculptures for my garden so that when I walk back to my house from the barn, I am always greeted by their beautiful artwork.

This year when I looked at the lineup of artists for the festival, I noticed they were missing, but the artist who made the balancing metal sculptures who was not there last year is back this year. Also not returning was the hand weaver from whom I ended up buying a breeding ram after chatting with her at her booth. This is the life vendors lead, both at the farmers market and art festivals. We get into the rhythm of seeing the same people week after week or year after year and whenever one of us goes missing for whatever the reason, the absence is a loss. It takes a lot to be able to put yourself out in front of the public on a regular basis to sell goods that you’ve put your heart and soul into. It doesn’t matter if it is a bunch of beets or a fine piece of woodworking, either way you have to be prepared when some thoughtless goon makes a derogatory remark about the quality, the color, or the price. Can you answer the same question over and over without getting frustrated, in fact, having the same enthusiasm in the last hour as you did the first hour? This life is not for everyone.

But for everyone who participates in markets and festivals, be they vendors or patrons, we know how special it is to interact on a one-to-one basis, meeting the makers, the growers, and the artisans who make our world tastier and more beautiful.