The Farmer's Market

  Even though now it’s one of my favorite activities, I used to hate going to the farmer’s market. For a while, my mom had her own booth there where she sold bags, pouches, notebook covers, keychains, and other things that she sewed herself. As a kid, there was nothing worse than getting up at 6 am on a Saturday to help my parents load the displays and merchandise into the car, drive over to Lincoln Square Mall, and sit behind the table in the summer heat until the market ended at noon. But as I got older, I gained an appreciation for the market and the community it created. 

A lot of my favorite booths as a kid were the ones who sold food. There used to be a man who came every Saturday and sold honey sticks. They were like Fun Pops before you freeze them, where you cut off the plastic top and squeeze it out from the bottom. They came in dozens of flavors: orange, cherry, lime, blue raspberry, root beer, or just plain old honey. Another one of my favorites was the Sidney Dairy Barn truck. It was a giant food truck that sold ice cream and was painted with black spots like a cow. They only had three flavors: chocolate, vanilla, or chocolate-vanilla swirl, but the ice cream was amazing. At Christmas time, the farmer’s market went inside and turned into an entirely new event. They put up a giant Christmas tree, and they had a Santa to talk to and take pictures with. It was one of my favorite things to do as a kid.

I think I started to appreciate the market more once booths from my childhood started leaving. The man who ran the honey booth is retired now, and the Sidney Dairy Barn truck doesn’t come anymore. My mom also closed down her shop a few years ago. But for every booth that leaves, there’s always a new one that takes its place. I’ve learned to enjoy waking up early and getting to experience all the great booths before they’re gone.