At the Market

Two weekends ago I attended both the Duncan and the Cedar Farmers' Market. During those two days, I had record sales. I made more in those two days than I had ever made in any other two days. It was wonderful. The problem, however, with having a day or two of record sales is that the next time one goes to the market and does not do as well - it feels as if it has all been a bit of a waste of time.

This weekend I was back at both of those markets. I did not do nearly as well - or at least it did not feel as if I did. But I did fine. In fact a year ago I would have been quite content with my total weekend sales. It is all a matter of perspectives and for me - remembering why I go to the markets.

At my first market of this season, it was windy, cold, wet and generally miserable. It was the kind of day when vendors wonder not only why they are standing in the cold and rain but also why anyone in their right mind would come out to shop. About half way through the morning I noticed a small bus pull up and a number of seniors getting off of it. Why anyone decided that a group of seniors from either a community-based group or a retirement home needed to visit the market on a really lousy Saturday morning is a question for people far brighter than me. However, the folks were in a good mood and seemed capable of ignoring the weather. A couple of them stopped and chatted with me as I tried to spin (it is much harder to spin when one is shivering).

I do not remember exactly what we talked about, but I imagine it was my usual conversation. Someone says - that looks so relaxing - I say something like "it is" -and then go on to talk about me sitting at home with my tea on one side and on the other side, my tablet playing an audiobook downloaded from the library and what a good life it is. Sometimes I talk about preparing the wool and how messy my house is with dust balls that are large enough to hide small children floating down the hall, other times I talk about where the wool has come from and the impracticality of trying to make a living from selling wool. Sometimes the visitor is or was a spinner or a knitter and so we talk about various projects, what kind of wool they like and the high cost of buying wool from a wool store.

I have these conversations throughout the day. They all sort of run together and most of my chats with the shoppers are not particularly remarkable - but this Sunday, a lady came up to me, knelt down beside me and said that she worked with seniors in a retirement home. One of the ladies in her knitting group at the home had talked to me at the Duncan Market. She had enjoyed the chat and had told everyone about our conversation. Our brief conversation had struck a note with her and it had perhaps if not inspired her, at least made her feel that she was still connected to an interesting part of the world.

I sell my weaving to make money - I need the money to pay for my hydro and for my food. I sell my things because I love playing with wool and if I didn't sell them -my house would be crammed with rugs and shawls etc. But I also go to the markets because I want people to have a connection to what they see every day. I want them to know that anyone can make textiles, that everyone should know where the things they use come from. I go to the market because I want to connect with the people in my community.

It is great when I sell lots of items. It is great when people spend what is to me a lot of money on a rug - it validates how I spend my time. But it is even better when I know that a conversation has had an impact on someone. That lady, on the cold wet Saturday morning did not buy anything - but she gave me something more important. Record sales days are great - meeting nice people is even better.