Recently my fellow farmer asked if I would tend the farmers' market stall for a few hours so he could go to a volunteer-thank-you barbecue.
“I have to be there a little early,” my fellow said, “to help get ready.”
“How early?” I asked warily. I love when my farm fellow, the farm vegetables, and the farm pooch go off to the market, leaving my Saturday morning free for writing,
“Just a little bit,” answered my fellow. The little bit got bigger and bigger: he needed to set up tents, bring the drinks and ice, pick up some charcoal on the way . . . my generous fellow was volunteering for the very barbecue he was supposed to attend to be thanked for volunteering.
We got up especially early that morning, to pack everything for the market and for the barbecue. The everything would not fit efficiently into one vehicle, as was the plan. The morning sped by, as the farmers got harried and grumpy. It was pouring rain, which didn't help any.
Finally my fellow roared off in the truck with barely enough time to get the stand set up before the market opened. I had 15 minutes to mourn my lost writing hours, then I roared off too.
At the market, my fellow and I hurried to transfer the barbecue things from the car to the truck, while keeping an eye out for customers. My fellow had everything ready for me to take over: the tent, the table, the scale, the veggies, the farm pooch . . .
Well, maybe not the farm pooch. “You won't believe this,” said my fellow, “but we forgot to pack the leash.”
I groaned.
“I used the ratchet strap instead. It's nice and sturdy,” said my fellow.
“But you need the strap to keep the tailgate on the truck, so all your coolers of ice and drinks don't fall out!”
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “I don't know what to do. I'm going to be late!”
I rooted around in the car and found a piece of sturdyish twine for a tether. My fellow strapped up the tailgate, and rushed away.
The pooch, tethered now with the twine, jumped in the hatchback of the car to enjoy a chewy treat I brought. He could take a nap in the car, or visit with me, or greet customers.
Of course, it was still pouring, which meant only the most stalwart of market-goers appeared, with their raincoats and umbrellas. When everybody asked where my fellow farmer was, I said, “I don't know if it's worse to be at a barbecue in the pouring rain, or at the farmers' market in the pouring rain!”
After a while, the rain eased, and more people came by, including the first dog person of the day. She happened to be the very one who had helped us with training in our wild puppy days, and also happened to have her own dog with her.
“Oh, good morning,” I said, “How nice to see you!” At the same time there was a little commotion behind me. I turned around to see my pooch bouncing over to greet the dog.
“The string broke!” my market stall neighbors called. Luckily I was able to corral my pooch before he could begin an all-out play session in the middle of the stall.
Our dog trainer friend had also brought her family: her husband held my dog, while her son held her dog, and she bought some spinach. Then her husband kept holding my dog, while I sold some lettuce to another customer, and rooted around in the car again. This time I came up with the dog seat belt, which made a fine, if short, leash. I offered thanks all around, including to the sun, now peeking out.
In the end, I sold all the produce, my market neighbor helped me take down the tent, and me and the pooch went home for a long nap. Plus the sun came out at the barbeque too.
Originally published in the Monadnock Shopper News, June 25 - July 1, 2025