Two Weeks to Morton Grove Farmers' Market: Reflections from a Committee Member

It wasn’t cold, it wasn’t sunny, there weren’t fruits and vegetables, but it was the Farmers Market and the elements of summer. People were out in Midwest high fashion…. the mix of Ugs and shorts, flip flops and ski parkas… hopes and reality of May in Morton Grove.

For me, desperation for the market set in on Thursday, when I’d parsed out the last of the honey I bought last fall from the beekeeper from down state.  Greek yogurt and walnuts is truly food of the gods with his seasonal honeys.

Seeing the vendors and community organizations from last year felt like seeing old friends. And seeing the new farms and sellers created a whole new market. I left with tomato, basil and rosemary plants in anticipation of fresh, home grown bruschetta in a promised 63 growing days. I’ll pick up the mozzarella from the Cheese People and bread from the bakery when the tomatoes mature.

While I hung out at the welcome booth and visited the stalls, the sum of three separate conversations help me convey what the market means beyond restocking my honey stores and prepping for meals in a couple months.

First, was a chat with a young mom, who told me the next day would be spent at a friend’s farm outside Racine. She and her friends celebrate a twenty-first century version of Beltane – the ancient ritual of the druids welcoming the new growth of spring. “It’s about honoring the earth, about the beauty of nature," she told me. “And, the market is part of that too – that’s why it’s important to me.”

A table alongside the welcome tent held the supplies for hand and face painting.  A hugely talented henna artist named Asthma created designs on one person’s hand after another’s. She said her middle school named her artist of the month recently. (Seriously, have her henna a small Wind-Wish Wheel or a full back-of-hand design to experience the fragrance of the henna herbs and her artistry.)  At the other end of the table a little younger child sat painting a design on his own leg with face paints.

“My name’s Mary, what’s your's?” I asked him.

He kept his focus on the fire-engine red creature emerging from his paint brush. “Ethan,” he admitted.

“So, Ethan, you about… 17 years old?”

He looked at me, incredulously, but straight eye-to-eye. (It always works.) “Nine. I’m nine.” He said as seriously as my statement to him.

“Not nineteen, then? Are you sure? And then he smiled, a huge smile with big shining brown eyes. He recognized my teasing.

“What do you do with your summers, Ethan?”

“I go to a bunch of camps.”

“What kind of camps? Do you learn how to fix air conditioners?” He looked directly at me again.

“No, I go to nature camps.”

“How come nature camp, Ethan?”

“I love nature. I love the animals and I love the trees and plants and earth. I like all the activities with the other kids there. I like it here.”

And, there it was. Ethan, the nine year old, gesturing at the Farmers Market, told me with conviction, he connected the market to nature.

My shift over, I took the opportunity to shop the stalls and stopped to talk to a farmer where I bought the tomato plants. “My family and I do nine markets a week,” he told me. “I take a couple, my wife and older son each take a couple too. Then we take Sunday off.”

“When do you have time to farm?” I asked.

“We have 27 acres, three growing the produce we bring here; the others have hay and pasture for the cattle. We all work hard and we get the work done.”

“So, do you take Sunday off to rest after all that or for religious reasons?”

“Well except for picking a few zucchini and cucumbers when they insist on being picked, which we don’t clean until Monday, we figure God had a good reason for setting aside a day to rest each week. We gather with other people on Sunday. We gather our family and make time to enjoy each other on Sunday. Imagine,” he said wistfully, “if everyone with all their busy lives did that. Imagine how we’d be less frantic and have better relationships. The world would be a better, people would be happier.” He went on to tell me how he went to school and worked in the Chicago, then decided to go back to the country where he could see storms roll in and smell fresh air.

I was struck by the idea that this man loves his job and the life it provides his family. He takes a day from the fields or the other markets every week to spend a different kind of time with his family and his community. His day of rest allows him to come back to our market renewed. His love of the land, his self awareness of what it means to him and his family affected me.

Today’s the first of a summer of markets. Listening to the mom, the nine year old and the farmer, I got a better understanding of what brings me back too. A common thread with nature, relationships to people… friends… families of choice and food wove through each conversation. Now, I realize that’s what brings me back too. That’s why I volunteer...for the regular reminder that our food comes from the hard work of people who live just down the interstate, for the people of all ages I’ve met who share an interest in nature, and for the food I take home.   

The Morton Grove Farmers Market will be open again June 4. I’m optimistic it will be warm and sunny and truly summer.