Musing Among the Radishes

Welcome to our virtual piazza. It was so satisfying to attend the launch of our very own Queen Anne Farmers Market Thursday that I thought it was high time we had a neighborhood blog. Capitol Hill has one. Ballard has one. West Seattle has one.

I hear Issaquah has one, for cryin' out loud.

So here we are. Not sure what to expect. Except for the unexpected, as on Thursday, when we volunteers charged with setting up the association booth discovered that WIND had not been factored into our plans.

Rain, yes. Wind, no. Unlike Aesop's fable, where Sun triumphs over Wind in divesting the traveller of his cloak, Wind had the upper hand on us around 2:30 pm, threatening to remove our displays from their easels, our literature from the table, and our tent from its designated parking spot.

So we scrounged: a bungie cord here, a length of twine there, some pushpins, some tape, a rock paperweight -- and in doing so began the many small reciprocal relationships that make a community.

By the time the market opened at 3, we were giddy with anticipation. The skies were spitting intermittently ("a good omen" said the vendors). Customers began to trickle in, some of them stopping to admire the life-size portrait of Queen Anne (circa 1700) but most moving quickly to the stage: a dazzling display of onions and greens, berries, cherries, apricots, lilies, cheese, pasta, crepes, pastries, fish, jam, jewelry, sweaters, and more and more.

A year ago, this bounty was merely a "visioning exercise" among a group of Queen activists (from the QA Neighbors for Responsible Growth, the group working to save our local Met Market).

Pie in the sky, so to speak.

Thursday it was clearly pie in the hand, but just how MUCH? With top-drawer produce, meat, fish and flowers available every day on QA Ave, would residents buy directly from farmers on a Thursday afternoon?

They would. They did.

Dr. George Counts, chair of the association, stood quietly at the First Avenue entry, allowing the occasional grin to escape his natural reserve. Nancie Kosnoff, co-founder of QANRG, George's cohort (and temperamental opposite), was beaming ear to ear, greeting friends (every third person seemed to know her personally) and steering them toward the cotton tote bags, free with a $25 donation. It was encouraging to see the empty totes bursting with produce by the time their bearers reached the end of the stalls.

My role was simply to help, in any capacity. In early Spring, the marketing arm of the association had approached me about designing some merchandise -- totes and tees and whatnot -- for the market. I was eager to help, having had a longstanding desire for a market in the hood. In 2004, while promoting Fresh Air Preschool at the Magnolia Farmer's Market, I asked the managers about establishing one on Queen Anne. They were cool to the idea, and if I remember correctly, wary of competition with their existing markets and difficulty in finding a suitable site. Well, that was then. The growth in new farmers markets has accelerated considerably, with no end in sight.

(But they were right about the siting. McClure's parking lot is servicable, but it's no Florentine piazza.)

I didn't hesitate to put my shoulder to an already well-greased wheel, and began meeting regularly with Maria College and Tara Lawrence. They've been a joy to work with, and I'm very grateful they sought me out. (Note to self: there is nothing like the "personal ask.") In a few months, I gained a solid appreciation for the work -- from raising seed money to siting and permitting, contracting, marketing and more recently, walking postcards door-to-door -- that went into making the market happen.

So I blanched inwardly when (on a bathroom break at Starbucks), a woman noticed my black apron and market badge and said: "It's great to have a farmers market here, but what TOOK you guys so long? I mean, we've needed this for a long TIME."

What the?

I muttered something about this being a volunteer effort, with neighbors taking the initiative . . . but she had already moved on, with her venti nonfat two pumps caramel and smug sense of entitlement. As if "Queen Anne" OWED her a market. If you happen to read this, Ms. Two Pumps, make a paypal donation to the assocation, okay? You owe them a big, fat one.

A subsequent encounter had a better aftertaste. The crepe lady, who with grace and seemingly no sweat glands, swirled hot crepes for four straight hours, mentioned that she was looking for help next Thursday. I hied over to the association booth to see if any volunteers had a teenager in need of a job. Bingo. The teen was actually there, loitering with her pals. She was dispatched poste haste to the crepe lady, and a match was made.

Now that's community.

NEWS FLASH: The market association needs a volunteer bookkeeper pronto -- just an hour or so a week. Pretty, pretty please with a fresh locally grown organic Rainier cherry on top?