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May
18

Yielding at the Market

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On Saturdays I go to the Farmers Market. I go for the produce—to see what is in, to enjoy the surprise of a new variety of greens or pick up my staple sweet potato. I go to my reliable vendors who I know will be there offering their specialties. Nora will have her famed empanadas and her smile will glow to match the lilt of her Argentinian voice. Margaret, who I call Mom, and Shirley who is the daughter will offer a bouquet of fresh cut flowers right out of Mom’s garden. This week she will certainly have more of her prized peonies. I will visit Michael who will offer up a good cup of home roasted coffee beans; I’ll acquire a pint of yogurt from the Goat Lady, and perhaps a bag of granola. I will peruse the offerings and see what the season of burgeoning growth is yielding.

But to say I go to the Farmers Market for the food or the flowers is missing the picture of what the market really yields for me. It is not only a cinder block building with stalls of farmers with vegetables, fruits, crafts, and baked goods. It is a microcosm of the universe. Within those walls is an entire city bursting with activity, bursting with life. And, within me I feel connected to that universe, to that city every time I walk those aisles.

This universe is made up of other visitors…the ones, who like me, are drawn to a Saturday morning ritual of being a part of such a special climate, where people you haven’t seen in months or years squeeze past shoppers to greet you with a warm, sincere embrace. Perhaps that is why I go…to connect to the other shoppers, to check on Mom and Shirley, to make sure Bill—the honey man—is fairing well. But perhaps I also go each week because it allows me to yield to my own need—my need to be with other people who share the same desire to walk amongst the beautiful gifts of nature, which are simultaneously vibrant and comforting.

When we take the time to yield—to the offerings of nature, to the offerings of human connections—then we are really yielding to bounty of life.

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