When you move to the country later in life, or even early, you will, I find, always be a refugee. You decide where you want to live, but with the understanding that you will never fully belong, neither can you return to what was home. You will always be an outsider.

I was born an outsider and feel comfortable as one. It is not a problem for me.

Living in the country differs significantly from living in the city, where I spent most of my life,  from politics to community to values. I never expect to be embraced and accepted as a “local,” which isn’t essential. I have always felt welcome in my small upstate town and have never felt disliked, persecuted, or resented for being an outsider, which is different from being a local born here.

I always miss the city’s culture and diversity, and I love the country’s beauty,  lack of presumption, groundedness, independence, and assistance.  As you do online, you never need to tell people to mind their own business.  I would never stick my nose into somebody else’s life without being asked, as it happens constantly on social media.

There is no better place in the world that I have lived for getting help when you need it. No matter who you are or what you are like, when you need help, it arrives quickly. Being a neighbor is a duty, not a title.

Over these years, I have become more and more at ease here. I am home and plan to stay home until the end. The farmer’s market has helped me find the warmth and community around me. I never talk politics with anyone for any reason. I’m unsure why this has happened now; perhaps I am just opening up. Or maybe they are.

(Above, Jim and his family from Adirondack Seafood have been coming weekly with lobster meat, coleslaw, shrimp, and other seafood foods. They are a welcome addition to the market; people come from everywhere in disbelief. Lobster rolls in the winter in Cambridge, N.Y.? Jim helped transform the business during the pandemic when it was nearly shut down. It’s back and booming now. We are grateful. Lobster rolls are my favorite food on the earth. Thanks, Jim and family; please keep coming. Jim is awfully nice.)

The farmers market has transformed me in several ways and opened me up to the good side of people here.

I enjoy getting to know the people I have known there; they are hard-working, creative, and easy to connect with (after a few years). It’s odd not to be like any people around you, but people here are much more accepting and tolerant than those I left behind in cities.  They might not like everything about me but respect my right to be me. I try to return the favor.

Lots of Americans, including many here, are extremists at the moment, but the extremists respect privacy and independence, at least in this town. Those are values that are very much alive. Nobody ever tells me what to do. And I never tell anybody else what to do.

 

(I’m going to go and help Casey Page paint her new breakfast food cart Monday morning; she hopes to be up and running in February. She is tired and excited, testing different breakfast ideas and reaching out to the coffee and organic farmers network around here. Casey is smart, stubborn, and creative.  I think she’s about to give the town something it really needs – a place to get good coffee, croissants, scones, sandwiches, muffins, and tea in the morning. Tomorrow, we paint.)

The farmers market has become essential to Maria and me. We work all week and socialize on Sunday mornings.

We have made friends there, I met Casey Page there, and we’re breakfasting in January with Cindy, the goat lady, Anne brings me beautiful flowers for my gardens, and Jim has brought lobster rolls and other seafood to the market from the Adirondack Seafood Company and a retired school teacher from Bennington makes wonderful scones and sells them at the market.

I respect the hard working farmers like Erwin and Jamie, who labor all summer and grow fresh vegetables better than the big markets offer. We aren’t just buying things from merchants; increasingly, we are talking to friends. I feel the rich market community and look forward to going there every Sunday.

Kristoffer (above) says he’s an introvert, but I find him kind, quiet, idealistic, and hard-working. He has a lot of interests (heritage Grains among them), and I look forward to talking to him.  He has great stories to tell about his trip to Ireland.  He doesn’t say much, but it’s worth listening to when he speaks.

And we love his grains. His mother Anne brings beautiful flowers in the summer for my garden beds—one of those people who is happy within himself.

At first, many of the vendors couldn’t quite figure out why I was taking so many pictures, but now they are used to me and get into position and wave or ignore me altogether.  I appreciate that trust. I won’t abuse it.

They have discovered that I have nothing nasty to say on my blog. I get some of Cindy’s wonderful goat milk soaps, now a lobster rule, fresh vegetables and scones, even winter and caps and gloves every week.

The market has grown steadily in the past few years, drawing interesting new vendors, local people, and some from out of town.  The people who run the market are doing a great job, and it shows.  

This Spring will be exciting for the farmers.

I feel good going there; welcome at last.  I was probably always welcome, but balked at the idea. I have lived most of my life without community, and I like having some.

Merry Christmas to the market and the people who make it tick. I’m happy you are here and will see you in January. You have enriched my life and Maria’s, proving that even a strange outsider can fit in at the right time.

Erwin knows about Long Days; he works hard all year growing vegetables, and his daughter sets up the prettiest vegetable stand in town.

Wendy June Maria is a retired school teacher who lives in the author Shirley Jackson’s old house. She has turned to making delicious stones that usually sell out, even in cold weather. I love seeing people at the fair who launch new loves and follow their dreams more successfully than possible.

The market is much more than a market; it is a breeding place for community and an opportunity for people willing to take the leap. Almost everyone at the market has taken a leap to be there, and I admire them for that. Interesting food comes from interesting people.

When I go to the farm market, I see dreamers and hard-working farmers. It is most often a joy to see, and the food is pretty great.