Marketing at the Market During COVID
I pulled in to my usual spot, facing the wrong way on a one-way street.
A group of men huddled on the sidewalk, one then another turning his head to peer in my direction.
I sipped from my coffee cup, then stepped out of my truck.
Just as I do every Saturday morning.
Just as I have every summertime Saturday morning for the past 14 years.
Only this year is different.
The Great Falls farmers market has functioned as my business doorstep, allowing people who meander casually through the downtown streets an opportunity to discover hidden delights that I and so many other homebased businesses offer.
It’s a gentle, low-key, affable atmosphere similar to strolling in a park.
Normally, about 120 vendors set up tents and signs, with colorful displays and wholesale prices for a wide variety of products from fresh garden produce to delicious baked goods, hand-thrown pottery to crocheted hand towels.
Naturally, this year, it’s different.
Three Hutterite colonies bring fresh produce, I’m there with my beef and lamb, the Happy Hermit honey guy and a brand-new microgreens company set up every week. The family who raises chicken and pork pulls in, too.
Instead of occupying several blocks and parking lots, we declare a single block along Fourth Street our temporary business headquarters.
Still, people find us.
Every Saturday, I’m surprised by the people who enjoy the quiet, slow pace of downtown on Saturday.
A couple who has been married for 45 years stops by to say hello. I don’t know their names -- never have -- but I know their story. She had hip surgery a few years ago and still waddles, either from habit or pain. He retired just about that time and is still wondering what to do with himself. Sometimes, they stroll together, sometimes separately, but their bond reaches across all distance.
A military family, the father pushing the stroller, carries this week’s vegetables. The parents are partners in their family unit, taking turns asking questions of the vendors and then consulting with each other on purchase decisions.
We smile at one another behind our masks.
A single man on a mission snags dill and cucumbers, intent on his plan to make so many pickles that he will feed his entire extended family all winter.
He glances my way as he shuffle-steps under his heavy load. I know he would wave if he had an extra hand.
Three generations swarm by – the matriarch scanning tables and tents while the grandchildren swirl around her in a whirligig. I can see that she enjoys the energy they create, but wishes she could spend more time considering a purchase. After all, she needs to think of something for supper. The sandwich generation swivels like a bobble-head, responsible for containing all of that energy while adhering to the invisible, yet fixed boundary next to her mother. Some things never change.
The few other vendors and I have become a team this year.
Between surges of visitors, we catch up on weather and activities.
One man continues to try to convince me that my son needs to come back to the ranch to help me. I continue to remind him that my parents encouraged me to live my dream; I certainly encourage my son to pursue his dream. It’s hard to launch a rocket to Mars from the ranch.
We make purchases from one another, in the ultimate buy-local campaign.
We all know that we could spend these four hours more productively each Saturday, but that we all want the people of Great Falls to know they have food purchase options.
And we all know there’s more to life than making money.
We get to make a life, too.