With maples turning, and frost on the pumpkins, there are fewer customers at our farm stand. In comparison to the many robust farms with roadside sales, our farm stand is tiny, but I love it. Last spring, however, when the push to plant and organize and clean up in winter’s wake pressed hard, I decided I had to cut back on something. Serving a church, running a catering business and having a farm stand was just too much. Since I love being a minister, there was no way that would end. At first, I thought the stand would go. But as soon as the vegetables started coming in, that changed. This will be my last season catering.
It’s gratifying to share the harvest, to let others partake of the bounty that the rich soil of the Champlain Valley produces. There’s a symbiosis to the process, we tend the garden and it in turn helps pay for itself. It’s as if the corn, tomatoes and eggplants are doing their best to insure that next year they will again be able to enjoy the view of the Adirondacks, the breeze off the lake and lush, compost enriched soil. I know, I know, I’m anthropomorphizing my vegetables, but that happens when we love something or someone, we attribute to them our own way of thinking.
We don’t staff our stand; no one sits there all day waiting for customers. It’s run entirely on the honor system. Put the money in the plastic container; make your own change. There have been a few times when we’ve come up short; someone even took the whole container once, money and all. But I’ve told myself that if people take food, they must really need it. And if they take money, well, they have to live with themselves. Mostly, everything works out very well. Often we get little scraps of paper saying, “I owe you $20. Be back soon. Here’s my phone number.” Sure enough, the money swiftly follows.
Then one afternoon recently a lot went missing: breads, tomatoes, flowers, beans. I was upset, not so much about the money as about the breaking of an assumed trust. It did cause me to question my magnanimous attitude about other’s needing what they take. Then to top it off - just as I was stewing over the theft - at a church meeting that night, someone suggested we say the Lord’s Prayer and the part about forgiving debts or trespasses stuck in my craw. It really doesn’t matter if it’s a huge infraction or a small one, when trust is broken it strikes at something essential about our worldview.
The next day, I happened to be at the stand when a dad and his small children stopped; they’re regular customers. As he handed his daughter a piece of chocolate zucchini bread through the car window, his daughter said, “Don’t forget to pay, Daddy, remember, they trust you.”
Okay, I guess we’re selling more than vegetables.
