I love the farmer’s market. Walking around the gorgeous vegetable-filled stalls seems to magically fill me with existential joy and contentment. It’s almost as if it becomes my life’s purpose to buy a bunch of beautiful radishes from a local farmer. As dramatic (and romantic) as this might sound, it’s also honest. If you’re lucky enough to have a good one nearby, a farmer’s market can be a meaningful place of respite and community.
Singing the praises of the farmer’s market is not meant to ignore the barriers to entry that too often separate people from stable access to good and nourishing food. This is also not to neglect community centers, food banks, dollar stores, and grocery stores as meaningful avenues that provide access to the food we need to care for ourselves. Instead, it is a love letter to the local makers, bakers, and farmers who show up (often incredibly early after driving incredibly far) for their communities.
In the four years I’ve lived in Kingston, I’ve been a big supporter of the Springer Market Square. When I moved closer to the Memorial Centre farmer’s market this spring, I stubbornly vowed that I would still visit the downtown market. And while I still do, the Memorial Centre has renewed my zeal for markets in profound and unexpected ways.
Founded in 2012 in collaboration with the Williamsville Neighbourhood Association, the Sunday Memorial Centre Farmer’s Market is a bustling, family-filled affair. There are outdoor concerts, performances, and lovely volunteers supplying picnic blankets, reusable plates, and utensils. In September, I even picked up a vibrant slice of yellow (!) watermelon from a kind volunteer. In the years that I’ve lived in Kingston, I have taken great pleasure in supporting the farmers, families, and small makers who help keep funds in the community and invest in its long-term success. Buying carrots, bread, or even a beautiful hot lunch from the local vendors can be a meaningful act of resistance and a moment of respite from the pressures of mainstream consumption. Yes, a farmer’s market is a site of business with sellers looking to make or supplement a living. And yes, buying goods at a farmer’s market is consumption (and it could even become over-consumption). Yet it is difficult for me to imagine that the local makers and farmers who wake up early on Sunday mornings to be here are simply trying to get me (or anyone else) to consume more or unethically. It seems to me that if we are fortunate enough to have food security, and certainly if we have the privilege to have a little more to spend sometimes, then we should—as much as we can—support the people, infrastructure, and community that supports us, too.
In our current hyper-capitalist climate, it is easy (and perhaps even most rational) to feel hopeless. And yet, every day acts of joy and resistance are happening across our communities, if only we remember to look for them and heed their calls. So, while there are endless minefields to ethical consumption (or as close as we can get to it), I’ve come to realize that we can really only do our best, and respect everyone else’s. As it gets colder, and the bounty of fall vegetables in Ontario starts to peak and taper off, you will find me at the market every chance that I have. It is a simple and soothing act of self and community care to slowly meander through the stalls, soak in the buzz of circulating families, and maybe pick up a thing or two.