A beautiful voice was belting a cover of “Walking on Sunshine” as I strolled into the Ski Run Farmers Market (I love a good foreshadowing). Laughter lit up the faces of passersby as they sipped on local craft beer, nodding their heads to the strumming of an acoustic guitar.
The smell of cinnamon and vanilla wafted from a stand selling home-made churros, and a long line of people waited patiently for their turn to order a refreshingly juicy, jar-served lemonade.
I’m convinced that farmers markets can cure even the dullest of moods, and after a long week, I knew I needed a bit of self-care. It’s easy to get bogged down by the pressures of life — deadlines, unexpected bills, sick pets — and yet, as I moved along each booth, I could feel myself getting lighter.
Fresh strawberries were lined in rows, $18 for a large crate of two. Grapes the color of crimson red and bright green sat, waiting to delight the next person to indulge in them. Wine fermented and bottled from a local vineyard was being passed from vigneron to buyer.
I admired hundreds of hand-made jewelry, all as unique and precious as their makers. A woman asked how my day was going. I complimented her artwork, and the way her eyes twinkled as she recalled the exact moment of inspiration for a color palette she chose to use, I swear, I couldn’t stop the smile from finding the corners of my mouth.
The strong, deft hands and tender hearts of those who put time, effort and love into their crafts, it’s all enough to make a community feel like home and a brief exchange be the thing that could help you get up in the morning.
What a treat it is to be told: “Yes, I did make this knitted sweater myself. Here, try it on!”
What a treasure it is to admire panels of photographs of the beautiful Sierra Nevada landscape I’ve grown to love so much through the lens of someone who loves it too.
After a few hours of fighting my impulses to spend all my money on everything in sight, I left with a jar of delicious, mushroom-infused raw honey and a spring in my step.
Mission accomplished. My cup is full.
“And don’t it feel good!”
