Saturday, August 22, 2015

Inch Seventy-Eight: Farmers Market


We have an active and thriving Farmers Market in our downtown, Wednesday afternoon and Saturday mornings. You can buy jams, jellies, local produce, regional cheeses, plants, soaps, baked goods, and such at our market. In its first year, some 12 years ago, I sold baked goods and so kept my boys in shoes and pizza for the summer. I have good friends who are either selling or are volunteers to keep it running smoothly, so any trip to the Farmers Market is a chance to visit and reconnect and hug and share.

This morning, however, I was only walking by the market to get to our local library, so I could return a book. And I would have have made it, except for the young woman who, in addition to produce, was also selling art work.

I stopped and pointed to one. "Is that for sale?"

Yes. She told me her price. I held up the library book. "I have to return this first," I said, gesturing down the street towards the library, "and then I need to stop at my bank, but I want that."

And about fifteen minutes later, I handed her money and she handed me my painting.

I asked her if it was hard to part with paintings and she laughed. "Oh, yes," she exclaimed. "It is like selling my children." I cradled the painting I had just bought. "Well, if it is any consolation, this one is going to a good home."

I haven't hung it yet, but it is in my study as I type this. I can look over my shoulder and see it.

My blogging friend Darla at Bay Side To Mountain Side is a huge proponent of local art and the art economy. She would totally understand buying art instead of tomatoes and corn this morning. The tomatoes and corn can wait. The art could not.

1 comment:

see you there! said...

Indeed I DO understand. When a piece of art speaks to you then you must listen. Otherwise you are later going to regret passing it up. Wonderful as the tomatoes and corn can be in the markets this time of year we can expect more of them next year - if not next week. Once an original artwork is gone it is .... well.... gone.

So glad you gave this one a home. With your love of words and books I can see why it called you.

Darla