We started back up with Farmer's Markets this week. Thursday I baked for Catawba market, and Friday for Ikenberry's and Grandin. Frankly, it was pretty tough, but the muscle memory knew what to do and somehow or another, the bread got baked and it was wonderful to get back to our friends. Stunning, really. Stunning to see how appreciated we are and how our loyal customers are more than just customers. This local food movement is a huge thing. I hate to use the overused word spiritual, but that was how it felt, as we greeted one another, shared hugs, stories, and I recounted to many the steps that led to my decision to move back to Texas. Simple, really. My parents are alive. I want to share our life with them.
You know, as I sold bread and lamb and chatted with old friends and made some new, it felt right and good explaining to folks the benefits of freshly milled grains. The difference in grass-finished meats. And as sad as I was to think of saying our goodbyes, there was also a confidence that our story is not finished. I told someone that when I went down to Texas to look at properties, I discovered that there was no one in the area milling grains and making the types of breads I do. Who knows how long it will take to get things up and running? But I have hope that the amazing, no, stunning, community that is developing here is available for us all over the world. I felt hopeful that as we move to a completely different climate and culture, we would find our niche in this lovely, organic thing called neighborhood, that extends beyond the few blocks of a zoned community.
Yeah, yeah, sounds sappy, maybe. But if you don't believe me, just come on out to one of our markets and check out the vibe. It isn't just me being sentimental. It really is there. If you haven't seen it or felt it, just give it a shot. Wherever you live, make the effort to head out to a little farmer's market and start up a conversation with someone. You might be surprised. You might just make a friend. Or two or three or more.