This past weekend reaffirmed my faith. My faith in the market.
And no, I'm not talking about Jesus or the dudes in dorky jackets shouting on Wall Street--although who am I to deny them thanks for the fantastic weekend we had?
What I'm really talking about is GALVESTON.
Glorious, shrimp and sand-filled Galveston. Leathery with suntan, crawling with lost-looking cruiseshippers, and peppered with the neon pinks and yellows of Islander art Galveston.
This past Sunday was our first appearance at the Galveston's Own Farmer's Market, and it was an unmitigated success. Truly, it was better than we could have hoped for, as everything we brought was snatched up by happy customers.
We showed up to market confident that we would have beautiful produce but unsure whether enough people would show, and whether or not they would buy. The farmer's market, just as with the larger Capital "M" Market, is a fickle creature. Weather, queuing at the nearby coffeeshop and sneezing are huge factors in the viability of a market.
Oh, and the quantity and quality of vendors, the visibility and advertising, and a receptive, enthusiastic audience are all pretty clutch as well.
Lucky for us, Galveston's Own Farmer's Market is a champion in all these categories. And believe me, finding champions such as that is harder than you might think.
Locally-minded shopping, let alone "organic" shopping, has become more and more prevalent in recent years. Yet, for various reasons like the ones I've already listed and other, more cloudy political variables, it can be hard for growers nationwide to find their place where they can make a iiving through their plants, animals and so forth.
Enter the local heroes like those found at GOFM,
and can we please just raise the roof for them,
if only in the rafters of our brains?
And I want to emphasize this celebration if you happen to be one of these glorious superheroes--Raise Your Roof.
Alex and I couldn't believe our good fortune when, after an hour, we were gazing fondly at a few shiny bunches of radishes that were the only little amigos left at our table. This is stupendous. For us, absolutely---but for a bigger vision that includes people eating well and giving a shit (giving LOTS of shits!) about their neighbors, their communities and how our little towns and cities eventually add up to the whole wide world.
Thank you to everyone who might've purchased our produce this past Sunday. Thank you to all the considerate humans who were nice to us on Sunday. Thank you to all the growers growing, and ranchers ranching, and entrepeunerers entrepreunering. And thanks to anyone who made it through this gushy loveletter of a post.
We're happy to be here, and we're happy to be a part of something so very good with you..
And we're so happy it allows us to play in the mud.*
* And speaking of mud, I want to extend Moon Dog Farm's good thoughts to all our neighbors, growers and non-growers alike, who incurred damage from the tremendous hailstorm this week. Please let us know how we might help if you need it. Gotta put that "it's all about community" money where our mouth is....