The chickens cackled their greetings and I gave them their daily feed. After checking for eggs, I made my way back to the house to gather what was needed for the market. I had packed everything in the car the night before, so all I needed to do was pick a few flower bouquets from the garden, grab my notebook, and a lunch. My Mom, with her hair put up in a way that made her feminine beauty shine, helped gather anything that I might need and carried the flowers she had picked and arranged to the car. In my mad scramble to be on time, it turned out I was excessive in my estimations. We sheepishly pulled into the central green at 7:30 am.
"Anna," my mom said with a hint of irritation,"We're really early! You think you were a little too anxious?"
" Yeah, I realize that."I said with an apologetic grin.
This seems to be a poor quality trait of mine. I am always late or too early for appointments or I miss my curfew from time to time. I've put my mother in a frenzy because I've been late in arriving home, or there have been times where my socially-starved self has been so excited to see a friend that I end up arriving at least thirty minutes before the time we had scheduled. This is something that I need to work on and desperately need to master since I receive my Driver's License in a matter of days.
We ended up pulling our tent and table from the car and placing it near a large Oak tree. There were only two other vendors present, but they had a much more complex setup than ours and already knew what they were doing. We had to wait for the market manager to show up before we could set up.
To pass the time, I sat on the village gazebo and wrote in my notebook. The sun warmed my chilled skin and the wind blew through my hair. By this time, the vendors began to slowly trickle in while a familiar face smiled at me. With a hand wave they shouted, "Welcome back, guys!"
A jogger whooshed through the park and practically yelled with joy in his eyes, "Good morning, lady! It's such a nice morning to sit in the sun!"
These two lovely faces made my morning and I continued to scribble notes in my notebook. The traffic began to get heavier and cars flew by with their drivers looking energized by the coffee in their hands. I loved watching the cars and all the faces that were inside, but couldn't help but think that they were probably wondering what the creeper girl with the lop-sided sunglasses on top of her head and wild hair was staring at them for. Ah well, they didn't seem to mind.
Eventually the market manager did arrive and she assigned us our spot. Mom and I carefully arranged the April Cornell table cloth onto our rickety table and put our two heads together and accomplished the task of putting up our tent canopy. I arranged my bread on top of the table and put the cookies in a linen-lined basket. Mom assembled her soup on a side table with a beautiful handwritten sign reading, "Creamy Mushroom Bisque". Flowers were arranged beside the table in a staggered line and a sign was propped against the tent pole.
The customers started to come. They donned their happy smiles and carried their reusable, earth-friendly, green bags that would hold their purchases. They skipped from vendor to vendor looking at the fresh garden produce of the farmers, touching the hand spun alpaca yarns, and purchasing items that sparked their fancy. A woman with short white hair and spunky glasses stops and gazes at our flowers. "What beautiful flowers!" she says. "I want to buy some for my art teacher!"
She then went on to talk about how she loves Vermont and the art class she is taking. She is from out-of-state and has a personality that is warm and curious. She excitedly picks out her flowers and says, "Thank you!" and walks off to the next vendor.
Another person approaches our booth. This time it's a man that stands at least 6' 3" and he pats his belly. "Oooohh, so much good food! Get me out of here!" He walks briskly away, avoiding the food that may tempt him to break his diet.
Another person comes to our booth. This time it's a familiar face and faithful customer/friend. His face lights up as he says with enthusiasm, "I'm so glad you guys are here!”.
He asks us how business is going and buys bread, a cookie, and a cup of soup. Mom and him strike up a conversation while I calculate his purchases and give him his change. He smiles a goodbye and goes off to his work.
A couple stops by our booth and surveys what we have that might make a good lunch for them. One of them speaks only French and the husband translates my English to French for his wife. He explains how they are from a biking club of ninety people and where they are in their route. In both of our struggles to understand each other we share a word common to both of us: "chanterelle.” Our soup for that day was made with Chanterelle mushrooms and the French word strikes a familiarity with the bikers. They thank us and explain that they will come back at noon for their lunch.
