We recognize the sad signals that mark the end of summer. The closing of the town swimming pool, school busses reappearing on roads, and trees exchanging their pastel summer wardrobes for autumn shades.
BUT we have not yet had an official farewell to summer. Here in Morristown, as we say goodbye to the Sunday farmers’ market, something of the happy spirit of summer rides “down the road apiece” with the farmers.
No longer will we have the opportunity to enjoy freshly grown, local produce. Not until next June can we approach Farmer Tom and ask whether his hens laid any jumbo eggs this morning. And does he have any more home grown garlic? No more will Mr. Chang boast about his beautiful asian pears, as he offers tastes of the sweet fruit on paper plates—that is, to anyone who can outmaneuver the yellow jackets competing with humans for samples. No more will students from Romania on work visas regale us with stories of life in their country. Sometimes the Farmers’ market has special treats for us; the baby Alpacas who come calling some Summer Sundays, while their owners hawk alpaca scarves and sweaters. Country singers with guitars carefully tuned come to entertain on warm musical days. People from town accompanied by their dogs turn the market into a friendly dog park. The bee keepers offer honey containing local pollen to tackle allergies of local people.
The farmers’ market creates the feeling of small town living in times gone by. We gladly accept that feeling and choose to ignore, for a too short time, the steady roar of encroaching highways, airplane flight patterns and traffic jams a few blocks away. Troubles fade away as people drift from one friendly farm stand to the next, greeting the familiar summer farmers, occasional neighbors. They come away humming familiar tunes of the folk singer.
With sweet memories, I bid a fond farewell to you, summer market of 2013.