The outdoor season extension

 I had such a satisfying day yesterday selling with the farmers, that I had one of those perfect moments last night when I was overwhelmingly grateful for the way all of my interests and community connections unite. I recognized a fleeting but complete happy moment that has been rare for me in the last while.

I put down the book I am loving currently, Whistler by Ann Patchett, and turned off the light, but my tired mind did not slow down. I had the insight that one of the reasons I love her writing is how it seems effortless for her to put us inside her characters, particularly the narrating one, with tiny gestures and observations, skillfully leaving out all of the explanations that people less skilled like me keep inserting, that insult our readers with too much exposition that they want to be trusted to do themselves. I don't write fiction currently but when I did, the people in my writing groups crossed out paragraph after paragraph making that point. If the reader doesn't get your intention, trust that they will figure it out, or try not to care if they don't. Just make your character compelling and if they are enigmatic, so much the better in most cases. Let the story unfold. Make your scenes vivid. One of the fun parts of writing is that the story unfolds for the writer as well, and can go deeper than the writer even has the awareness to put intentionally in. I do love that about writing, and it got me up to write in my journal, although I passed on the opportunity to write a late-night post for you all. Nonfiction is sometimes best without the giddiness and and more of the salt of the morning realities. And coffee.

The second-most pleasure was the John Mullaney SNL, where he did not disappoint in making the eclectic complicated musical segment happen where he references more than even most New Yorkers can probably track, in parody versions of current Broadway and other NYC tunes and news stories, kind of like a quick New Yorker magazine column with much more snark and humor than the usual segment. Those skits are memorable and genius and I can't wait to watch that one again after I read more to figure out some of the references I missed. He is so brilliant and deft that I imagine being in the room when they pitch out their ideas for how to put the show together, and it goes off into this hilarity and wonder at how that actually works. It's extraordinary and although this will not sound like my usual humble self, it is exactly how we put together the Jell-O Art Show performance script. We brainstorm all the funny or poignant connections we can come up with in the current zeitgeist and a few months later we have a show. We sure could not do it in a week.

We can't sing quite as well as the actors on SNL, who were astoundingly talented (and you thought they were just good at delivering jokes) and having the Jell-O framework often disappoints me in its limits, but the process is so enriching for us and we're in that now. I'll write about Jell-O more in my other blog Gelatinaceae but last night I was just happy I stopped dozing off in the recliner long enough to see that skit. 

The third thing was my experience standing on 8th yesterday watching the farmers market unfold and fold back up, and recommitting to my part in that extended community. Everything from the space I was in (vacated by Lee, with my thanks, and by the way, I had no idea sweetgrass was so aromatic in the garden, just wafting over the weeding and leafraking on a fall day, so thanks for that too) to the things I brought home. I probably spent more than I made. The combination of the early game and threat of rain kept the crowds a bit thin and later in the day, and honestly, the difference in crowds between last week and this week was noticeable. With the two southern blocks empty, things were quiet and there was a space that lacked the usual soul behind me. Fortunately the drumming started up later in the day, and there were two or three buskers to distract, but as I tried to be patient and be there for potential sales, I ran off repeatedly to get juice, greens, treats, fruit (the last of the Comice pears) some truly lovely cauliflower, spaghetti squash, and so much more. I wanted the fridge stuffed with the bounty of my friends, old and new over there and I would have bought more if I hadn't been worried about carrying it home on the already full trailer. I will get more next week, as I did miss a few things and still have a couple of inches in the kitchen that are not overflowing. Really glad about what happens when there are fewer booths and you find someone new who has amazing onions or single-person-sized squashes or you just get the chance to buy things without waiting in long lines.

The main thing happened as I was about halfway loaded up to leave, when my neighbor asked me about my day. I had watched him sit and have extended conversations throughout the day and heard little snippets to let me know he was interested in talking about the organizational history and other aspects of the community but I had really underestimated how much we had in common. I had been wanting to tell someone over there that I put together the archives, which I've tried to tell them numerous times but has to be information given to the right person, who actually cares about it. Their archives actually should belong to them, but at least if they know they exist and can be viewed, they matter. I might have told the right person this time.

We had a grand time going over the changes to their market and the people we remembered and what they did or didn't do. We talked about a few of the older farmers like Charles Duryea and Shari Reyna, how important they were, and how few people are left who actually know the history. He told me a few things I hadn't known and of course I knew a lot he didn't, as he only has 25 years in to my 51. I was there for so much of it, and paid a particular kind of attention because of my interests, that I have a unique ability and a responsibility to bring it forward. Which as you might know, I have been trying hard to keep doing in the face of a new community who doesn't really know it exists and maybe isn't that interested in knowing about it. 

But the community is where we connected with our most passion and that was totally unexpected. The timing of it, with the stuff going on in all three organizations that are trying to remain member-focused in a more corporate and expensive world, was what caught my soul up and sent us into the clouds of imagination for what could be. We want some things back that have dropped by the wayside and maybe this was a tiny first step into putting them back into practice and importance, in the community, for the community. 

The markets aren't just for the members, by a long shot. We make them for all of us who live here, visit here, or find us by accident. Building up the farmers was something we all did together, and now that it is more powerful and stable, our whole region is benefiting. We have food security, we have relationships, we have sustainability and the levels of production and marketing to survive this present time of insecurity and what is coming, with the climate and the political climate. Yes, everything is more expensive. People are gradually adjusting. The farmers depend on workers, so that is getting much much harder but if you want a job in farming or market retail, those are there for you. Nearly all of the farms would love dedicated reliable workers, and farm work is fun and rewarding, if not lucrative. These farmers are good solid people, the salt of the earth as used to be said. They are honest and since nature is not a fool, they have developed flexibility and the expectation that they can and will adapt to whatever comes. Directing the changes a little would be ideal, and for that, drawing on history, learning those lessons, and accessing the wisdom of the experienced people is key. When you can't depend on the weather predictions, you need that person who can read the clouds. 

The farmers have their own needs and they are not that different from ours as crafters, so our collaboration is not going to lose value. When we are not there, they are not as successful, and the same goes for us, if you remember when they moved to 5th street for the remodel and the last hour of any given market when they closed before we did. It's a synergy that can only get better if we can work together. Currently we are not. Closing for all of November starting next year is a blow that will hurt them, and we didn't even consider that in making that short-sighted decision by our Board. Instead of finding more ways to make November more profitable, it was thrown out. As I have said, this will involve three weeks in 2031, and two weeks next year and most years. I'll continue to sell with the farmers if I can, but bringing down the customers is a whole different set of issues that they will now have to work on without our collaboration. Expect some solutions. Their current marketing department is hot and they promoted me and the other crafters in their ads, while the public barely heard from our market about what our crafters would be doing this past week. Assuming everyone just transitions effortlessly to Holiday Market is untrue and misleading. Sluffing off the Park Blocks markets feels wrong and counter to building them up. If they're not important in November, are they important on a rainy day? Are they important once you have put in your required selling days to keep your reserve spot? To me they are vastly more important than Holiday Market, which is a different event that is less and less connected to the downtown ones.

Our culture used to be show up every week, like most of the farmers do. Sure, they sell perishable food, but you would be surprised how many weeks old some of those foods indeed are. Not everything is picked on Friday night, each week, though a lot of careful planning goes into crop succession and variety and how to sell things in a place full of similar things. You know what works for them? Community. The relationships build over time make us willing to pay high prices for the foods we value, and the farmers work super hard to deliver quality, expansion, and bring their passions to the marketplace for all that mutual benefit. Our job is to appreciate it with our purchases and our return for more. 

One of the things he and I went over was the attitude of managers who view issues as problems to be fixed or obversely, situations to to be nurtured into successful ones. They get the occasional seller who lies about the sources of their foods, who requires a farm visit to prove they grew that stuff. It's a lot easier to discuss if you start with the mutual trust and honesty of rules that can be followed. They used to require prepared foods to be 80% sourced at the farmers market, and now it is down to a more realistic 25%. That's still a high bar for someone to meet who has a lot of things to juggle to launch or sustain their products. Their ability to "handcraft" everything they sell has a lot of wrinkles we don't have to address at our market, but the way things are handled makes all the difference in how an individual farmer is nurtured or goes away mad. This is just a recurring situation for them, not something that can be prevented by some kind of strong authoritarian policy. People have to be welcomed and nurtured into the community before they can care enough to follow a difficult rule. Pretty much all the regulations work that way. 

Currently the way some of our standards issues are handled on our side of the street is not nurturing and not collaborative, and not open to rational discussion and good solution-making process. My situation is just one of them. Members are not there to limit other members from being successful by exacting favoritism, control and inequitable solutions. It hurts everyone involved in the process. Standards has to be there to notice the trends, help us all adapt to the current ones, and keep the market viable while we adjust. Using technicalities to limit someone successful should automatically bring the question "why are we doing this?" and again, that has not been answered for me. I remain at risk and communications did not improve with my attempts to participate in a professional process. I still lost the ability to sell a hat that says Oregon on it. There is no way that was a nurturing decision. It's not even logical or justifiable, so I will not move on from that. It was damaging. 

But yesterday was lovely. No one glared at me with derision or suspicion and no one felt the need to violate my boundaries or keep secrets from me. Again, I got to be my true self, and it made me so happy, and so productive. So grounded in the community. It's pretty tragic that after 51 years I have to go to Veneta or across the street to feel that way. Tragic for me, and of course 99% of what is going on any given Saturday is not about me, but these unfortunate decisions color what I do get to observe.

Yesterday it was fallen leaves swirling in eddies, one canopy making two men run like rabbits to grab it, and openings of every kind in my psyche and interior and exterior life. I had the strength of history at my back sitting quietly in the empty blocks, waiting for April, waiting for us to all come back, at least those of us who can. 

May it be many, and may we all feel that richness and openness and inspiration which is why we do this stuff over and over. I will be there next week to do it one more time until the outdoor markets are over for me too for the season. I am already missing them. There's no guarantee of another one, after all.   

Same sandwich?

 Membership organizations are complex! Members have rights, but seldom the documents outlining those rights. Obviously operating on trust and honesty makes the organization vulnerable. Policy is your friend, but policy can't predict every situation, or be understood in a useful way when things come up that are complicated. I did some research in ORS 65 the other day and everything seemed so general and easy to bend. It's a rare person who can read policy and come up with a definitive interpretation that will hold over time and convince people who disagree. 

I watched the OCF Board meeting, which was cringy, but to their credit they made most of it public, only keeping some confidential, so I'm proud of them for attempting to honor transparency and the members' right to know things. Truth is, the members will almost always get the full story eventually, and none of the ordinary members are sworn to confidentiality, and most don't understand it either.

So the truth comes out. Often there are multiple versions of it, and usually opinions formed over years don't change. Some kind of historical "truth" settles in and becomes the story that moves forward.

Trying to make a policy for an individual situation when you should have already made that policy is a bad look. When other people were fired, who were members, various limits were put on them, that weren't put on others. It was harsh then and it still seems harsh. The Board agreeing to go along with it doesn't make it right and whether or not it was an elegant solution remains to be seen. Something elegant ought to be more immediately recognizable. 

While it may have pushed the current situation into some kind of a solution, only time will tell if that solution works. Mistreatment doesn't go away, it lives on in the damage done and the perceptions, right or wrong, of the people who participated, and even more so in those who observed, weren't given the full story, and drew their conclusions. That is not something that can be controlled, which is the place where control tactics fail to work. Wisdom needs the acceptance that nothing is really under control, so the tactics will backfire. 

The volunteers who serve have to find a way to settle things within themselves, so anything that can inspire them to work through it and continue their service is useful, and welcome, and I see that the mostly wise and relatively professional volunteers on that Board tried to offer that inspiration. 

To me, I see so much missing and am reminded of the times not so long ago when that was not provided. I don't see that little bit of inspiration winging its way over to my own situation. 

Once again I examine my participation, silence and all of the emotional and intellectual work it requires to find ways to navigate these complexities. I want to trust the people I have learned to trust...but that is simply more difficult every time. 

At this rate, there might not be many people left in that category. It's too hard. No wonder I am so excited about my unstructured, sunny day when my work seems simple and straightforward.

Rake leaves. Print the little piles to fill in my inventory. Watch the weather predictions so I know how to handle Saturday. At least that is looking better everytime I check it. Maybe that is the guidance I want.

Certainly the deep dreams I had about digging things up from the ground inside a building where an event was in progress will not be helpful to form metaphors about. Or going out to open my shop and finding that a bloody murder had happened on my front steps. No feathers or fur, just the guts and the blood. Somewhere no doubt I will see the swarm of flies that has found the carcass. 

Still a sunny and rare day to savor though. 

Howl

 We very nearly lost a beloved tradition yesterday...the collective howl across the blocks at the end of the last Park Blocks day. The whole day was more silent than usual...no fountain noise, though the drumming and the stage music could be heard. In the morning I searched my memory for a song to quietly sing as I set up, just to set intention for the day, and fill in for the missing neighbors I usually chat with. The west block was almost empty until the 4x4s moved in from Park Street to give us a peopled neighborhood again.

But there was one young man who sat down on the grass and took out his guitar to tune it, and I told him I was trying to think of a good song. I had one hip hop song going in my mind and jingles from commercials (Come on over, come on over baby...) but nothing I wanted to sing. He started in with his main repertoire, Grateful Dead, which I don't really know by heart, but enjoy. He had a nice calm energy and I bought him breakfast. We fed on the words we all know so well that still live though the writers are gone. 

The sales day was restorative after the last week when I made less than I probably have in two decades, though I'd have to pull out a lot of files to prove that. If we had ended our season on Oct. 31st this year, it would have been so sad and wrong. Putting things on sale was just a desperate move for me to get the skunk off the table as we say, as the hours went by last week with no sales and no customers. Having the market-wide sale on the last day is not a good plan, in my view. Everyone makes less, because volume does not make up for price cuts, generally. My sad $175 (I know for many that is not a bad day, but it is for me) would have been higher and I would have paid market more, if things were the regular price. Generally I do not find that lower prices make the decisions for people. They either want the things or they don't. That could just be me. I have a long history of not accepting discounts from my fellow members, often preferring to overpay them. There's a subtle thing I have not really learned even in 51 years about how we value our work and transmit that to people who love it, but I'm still trying to learn it and I know paying a fair price feels better than getting a deal that makes one person have an advantage over the other.

So again yesterday I spent a bunch of money and bought things from my new and old friends whether or not I really needed them. I want those people to keep making them. It's a counter to consumerism and more community-building, and has given me some of my most treasured possessions, like this fork

I bought from Virgil Courtright when he was in the 4x4s near the end of his life, selling off a few things he wanted us to have. It's numbered, #4, and he said it was carved from some white oak from Daniel's booth near main stage at fair. Not sure if Daniel is gone, but Virgil will not be using this old technique of splitting a branch into four to make a gorgeous tool like this. I use it once a year to throw leaves over my gardens and keep it in my kitchen so I can admire it. There is nothing like a handmade object to ground you in your life and keep you mindful of the people who helped you make such a rich life.

There's also this spoon for a handmade set I asked Wanna Spoon to make me for the chipped one, and he didn't make anything plain. He made a small work of art. That is what we

spend our time doing. The value is immeasurable. 

It was George's birthday, speaking of inspiring crafty people who have moved into a less physical realm, and the veil is staying thin for me as I continue to process my little hopes and dreams that seem validated by the recent votes, not just in the national elections, but in the fair one as well, where it seems that character is back as a thing that matters enough to work for, and justice is on the agenda again. 

The fair is messy like market, like many membership organizations that have periods of struggle to refine their values and remember how to connect their roots with their dreams. It's never a perfect process and all of us who participate will never agree on people or tactics or programs or results, but in the messiness is the gorgeousness of collaboration and those elegant ideas that emerge from the mix of ideas and opinions that we welcome in to make the heavy and important decisions we need to always be making. All of them matter well beyond their motions and first implementations and short-sightedness is a crime in our process.

I decided to sell with the farmers for the next two weeks, which I do enjoy as a person who could easily have become one of them, instead of the course I took across the street. It's in my heart and my body to work the land, through my mother, the Nebraska farm girl, (her book Johanna is a good read if you want to go find it.) So I just take Virgil's #4 out as I gather up the neighbors' leaves every fall and I keep buying plants and expensive beautiful apples and breads and kimchee and all the favorite items I get across the street from the blocks. I'll be stocking up next week and the one after. 

I'd rather hold my space on the west block, but I'm not the one making the short-sighted decisions these days, though I did remember and instigate the howl even though there were only four of us there to do it. I hope I never stop carrying the legacy and the history forward, as it will always be important and even essential to our survival, which we cannot take for granted.

All of the inspiring political posts and analyses I've been reading focus on the inclusivity and diversity we need as a community to keep us all thriving, not just some, and certainly just protecting the elite was soundly rejected for our nation and our microcosms. We are here to support and protect all of us, most importantly the ones struggling. 

Silencing any voice, however unpopular or inconvenient, is not something any of us are really willing to support. Sure, it gets hard to sift through opinions sometimes to get to something currently useful in moving forward, but harassing people for having opinions is not sustainable and it is killing us as a community just like forgetting our loved traditions is robbing us of our richness. There wasn't a little parade yesterday, either, not uncommon if the people who do it are not there. So many of us are not there these days. Last year, Fred came down with his rattle to an empty west block, as I watched from farmers. I didn't see him yesterday, or even notice the absence of the parade, but I did notice how many of the regulars were not there. I don't think there was one Board member or officer selling. 

Not that they are required to, as they are allowed to cut their losses like so many other members are doing on these high-fee, low-attendance days. It's time to also allow the food booths to not be required to attend. They have to buy quarterly licenses from the county, and as they are location-based, often this time of year they buy one for a week in November or four or five weeks in October/November. Depends when they start their year. But requiring a cold drink booth to attend in October can be rough on them, as it is to require a hot food booth to cook on an 100-degree day in midsummer. They get two days off if needed, and can take four more for a currently $25 absence fee, but it's time to set them free from requirements that are not made of all of the other members. The time when food booths made a lot more than craft booths is over. Lots of us crafters make more regularly than some of the less-popular foods. Farmers also has a problem getting and keeping food booths, as it is just a hard business to be in, and with food trucks all over the place, their "piece of the pie" takes a constant scramble to innovate, deliver top quality and service, and nurture that loyalty and care that brings them to sell even when they might lose money. Their calculations on amounts and recipes have to be precise and throwing away food is antithetical to their values. 

For prepackaged foods in the craft booths, there is that paradigm where you might come on a Saturday, particularly in April and May, and not get a booth at all. Then you are left with products you can't sell. Of course not selling out can happen on any day, and making a point of buying from our prepackaged food booths is super important as a way to keep them coming. I have my favorites of those as well, and the cool thing is if you tell the person you love their cookies, for instance, they might expand that selection to bring more of what you like most. The personal aspects of that are so valuable, you might never buy a package of Pepperidge Farm cookies again. That person to person response is what makes us so strong.

And so, back to elections, it is now going to be our turn to field some candidates that will serve our membership, restore and uphold our traditional values, and lead our market with care and the long view, nothing self-serving, nothing for now that will not sustain us. There will be five openings on our Board. We will need officers who will show up, do the oversight, and lead the decisions with legality and the future in mind. We need real leadership, as we have always needed it, and always will.

Someone told me they are just going to ride this pony until it drops. Really? It will be okay to watch a pony die? I know they didn't mean to say they don't care about the pony. They care enough to keep riding, but they're not necessarily the one who can take the reins of leadership, and they're recognizing the absence of those people. It's not easy to do it, which is why I have accepted that I am no longer the person who can, either. I can do lots to support those who will step up, as we all can. 

If you actually read my blog, you know that I haven't done any of the things in the cease-and-desist: stalking, cyber-bullying, slander, libel, threatening behavior, even harassment. I have not lied about any  of the basis of my opinions. I've written about my own experiences, in an honest way, in my own space, and everything I have written is fact-based, and a valid and important view of what has been happening to me and to others. Everyone is free to disagree with it and I haven't pushed it on anyone. 

But pushing me into silence and fear is a problem for the entire community. Certainly I am not the only one, and many of us are afraid to engage, afraid to serve as a leader, and afraid to make the changes that our survival requires. Putting together a solid Board is task number one. Nobody has to do it alone, and that is the first thing I was taught when I first became Chair at the age of 33 or whatever I was then. I wasn't skilled. I learned and was taught. I was mentored and we worked together to grow and meet the challenges of that day, which were most of the main challenges we still face. Promotions, financial accountability, relations with our city and the farmers, the greater community, and our member businesses are still the same challenges. It's endearing and distressing that our problems remain the same in their basic forms. It's going to be affirming when the energy for solid values and sustainable practices moves from the other realms into our little election.

I hope for us that we have no more negative campaigning, secret or overt. No one gets labeled and there needs to be no division regarding supporting staff or supporting members. If we aren't all on the same team, what are we doing? It isn't about personalities, it's about the whole. What is elevating the whole community (including the public) and what is not? How do we keep on track? How do we thrive? 

You have some of those answers, yes you. Maybe it is your time to run and make some of the solutions. You won't be doing it alone, and you will grow and learn and look back to see the value, even the parts that are hard to do. Maybe those parts are the most valuable. I am here to tell you that value is immeasureable.

Time to take out my fork to get the last of the leaves. Rain has come. Yesterday was such a gift, and it was a happiness to share it with so many of our community members. A fitting end to the season.

Be the wolf. The cougar. Or be a marmot, even a nutria if that is what you can bring. Be the yappy dog it that is all you have. But please do be one of us. Imagine if we lost it. 

 

Gifts

 

At least it didn't rain

 Darn, I'm still cold. I was nicely bundled up yesterday but getting my house up to 70 degrees is proving to be difficult this morning. My plan was to rake leaves but I do not want to go out there just yet. I did fill the bird feeder and throw out more seed for them, knowing they are colder and hungrier than I am.

Cold Halloweens kind of spoil the costuming but at least it didn't rain so I could still wear the Jell-O. I forgot that whenever I bring it out I get to have lots of conversations about  Jell-O Art and the creative process and that was unexpectedly super fun.

The customer interactions that I did have were wonderful as usual and though sales were pitifully few at least I sold something. That would have been harsh to make the effort to show up and then lose money. I mean, I kind of did, because I spent more than I made, but I've been stocking up on a few farmers' products since I don't expect to see them as much going forward. I really miss the farmers' market in the winter but it is so hard to go out on a Saturday in the offseason, I just don't. It's a fine luxury to do other things on a weekend besides work and prepare to work and recover from work.

Met some new members yesterday in all that leisure time and although they weren't new, we hadn't really looked much at each other's booths before, which is the upside of not being very busy. Hearing members talk about their work is always illuminating, even if it might be their usual spiel they give every potential customer. I am not personally familiar with the joys of every craft, though we often share that we do want to try a bit of everything as we are generally a very curious group of people.

Hearing about their explorations while they searched for the craft that stuck reminded me of my own art journeys and that they will never be over (until I am....) I'd almost forgotten the old story that Jell-O Art made me an Artist but there I was telling it again to someone else who had no idea what the nuances and depths of Jell-O Art are about. Maybe a new Jell-O artist is in the making!

Costumes were subdued but I had to force myself to "Haul the Ass" as my friend put it, since I have just faced market as a chore to get through recently. I want to have fun, but it seems risky since people are out there who would like to spoil it. So I didn't get elaborate, just took it and two Jell-Os with me and hoped I would feel like putting them on. I was quickly encouraged to do that. It's fun wearing something no one can really see from the front. As at Fair, the bustle is super popular and even though I didn't make it myself, I am glad I made use of it. It was so timely I could make presidential jokes so that political aspect was also unexpected and extra fun. I told one person "Quiet Piggy!" to their shock and I only did that once, as it was so unpleasant. It didn't make it funny. I haven't enjoyed at all watching an old pedo lose his control and let his venom out, so like most people I know I am more than ready to not have to think about these "jokes" any more. I tried to just take everything as a compliment. 

 The bird hats are one of the most fun products I have made...so many birders in the world. One returning buyer got a Meadowlark and we got to chatting. I told him I had seen a bird I wasn't sure of in my yard, which had very distinctive spots on it's breast, and he knew right away it was more than just my guess of a small thrush. He knew that the Swainson's Thrush has a reddish tail and that those have mostly migrated, but that it was surely a Hermit Thrush which I had looked up in the Sibley's but the picture didn't really highlight the spots. I looked in a few more books today and it was definitely right. I've been trying to pin down the Fox Sparrow for a long time as Lotte mentioned it in one of her journals but it wasn't one of those. Close though. I'm going to see one someday. I have been reading a book by Christian Cooper about birding and he describes waiting for hours for a bird to show itself, talking about the succession of migrating warblers in Central Park NYC, but I am not as patient and mostly just get lucky when they drink at my watering stations or perch in my trees. Maybe one of the joys of aging will be spending more time sitting with the binos patiently waiting. 

The thrill of a new bird never gets old. We also talked about plants and I have a potential new one to get, Coyote Brush, which is native to California. Reading about it just now, I probably won't put one in, but it is a late fall bloomer and he said he saw so many species of pollinators on it that he was astonished. He was really a naturalist, and I'm not as interested in the insect world, but maybe I could be. I have definitely noticed that all of the flying things are not finding enough plants to feed on right now. I suppose we might want to put in more plants from the southern reaches of our range, because of the climate zones creeping north, so I'll keep it in mind. Bug life would certainly hold plenty of material for hats, and I am often asked for them. Nothing is more fun than hearing some person really get into their favorite subjects, whether that be clay or little flying creatures. 

I'll be going to market for the last day, next week. It might be only a few of us, but those goodbye hugs and last "See you Saturday" moments are important to me. None of us know if we will really return, and that gets less certain all the time. Yesterday was mostly about friends, and feeling lucky to have them. I'm going on the last day for those friends. We'll be packing in the dark, but it will still make us feel good on the way home. 

What is in the Balance

Madder Than a Wet Hen

 Yesterday was fun downtown, mostly because we got lucky with the sun, if you were lucky enough to be set up in the sun. The shade was cold. It's cold today, and it looks like it will rain all week. Goodbye leaves. 

And although it looks like next Saturday the 31st will not be rainy, a lot of members told me yesterday that it was their last day on the Park Blocks. There are only two markets left down there, and then a week between that and the HM for people who do the first weekend there, so I'm sure cutting your losses and staying home sounds good to many. It sounds good to me too. 

I've been planning to try to sell every week as I have done for so many years, but now that I do not feel supported by the organization, I am definitely questioning why I am  holding onto that loyalty. Because loyalty to the concept of "making a market" has always been a big part of why I show up every week. I am well aware that not all of them are good for sales, as the hottest ones and the coldest ones and the wettest ones are hard to justify showing up for. I show up for the public, who expect a market, for my friends and customers, who want to mail things early or support me or visit with me or just discover me for the first time, and for my market community, which needs strong leaders and wants to feel that we are doing something together for our mutual benefit. All of those still compel me, every Friday as I prepare and every Saturday morning as I talk myself into putting on my gear and loading up my trailer. 

It's dark now when I leave and when I get home, and that's kind of painful. I counter that with the knowledge that I do have the good gear, that I can stay warm and dry, and it isn't about the money, but about the experience and how fulfilling it is. And every Saturday is still that, since that comes from within and I still carry that fullness no matter what happens. But I have lost some of the aspects that enriched it, and I am sad about that. 

I've lost sales. People don't want my hats that were banned for being only one word, that I drew on to embellish. They wanted the one-word versions for their simplicity and interpretive openness. So that $4000 of sales is just not going to materialize for me. And because (in my opinion) we are not advertising in the Emerald any more, I don't get the groups of students who come down every week...they just aren't coming. Even on the week of an away game, they're somewhere else. People who read the Weekly, if they see the ads and respond, are mostly already coming, and not new to town. Those kinds of things are hard to pin down, but my observations after so many Saturdays have always been pretty accurate for my experience. Yours, of course, may be different. 

I've lost some of my willingness to engage in fun. I don't feel safe enough to enjoy myself there, dress up in a silly costume (and I have a roomful of those) and laugh with others. I feel spied upon, oppressed and in danger of some more random attacks upon my being and my products. When will the next Notice of Concern be written, this time about some other thing that used to be okay? I feel targeted and harassed, and extremely DARVO-ed. I don't know who I can talk to without that undercurrent of examining every word I say in case it is misinterpreted or triangulated to hurt someone else. I'm skipping an entire weekend of Holiday Market because being bullied on Christmas Eve was so devastating for me last year. You couldn't pay me enough to repeat that. 

I won the haiku contest

I lost my loyalty to the organization in its present form. I still deeply believe it is my responsibility to bring forward the legacy of our history and the ideals of our founding generation and all of the members who have done so much to preserve and move us forward, together, and I will still do that to the best of my now-restricted ability to tell the truth about what is happening. I am not feeling supported by the present organization, and this has been working on me since 2022 and didn't end with my resignation from leadership in 2024 when I left my position and let the org know that I would not consent to being promoted by them, used in any way to help them do what I felt was unethical, and I would not engage with members or staff who did not treat me with respect. I stopped making and selling the merch and gave it away. I stopped attending meetings for a first-hand view of what was going on. I tried not to care. That didn't help me much. 

Occasionally I would still try to help, with history or my opinion or my advice or even my support for volunteers. That never got a positive response, but was met with false narratives ("only three people") and dismissal and more disrespect. So I don't try to help except by writing my reflections in here. And if you read many of these posts, you can hear me trying. Of course if you believe I am just "spewing negativity" you aren't reading them and maybe won't ever, as some people have told me. They've never been about one person and that is again, a false narrative spread to hurt me. 

But it was that loyalty that ironically got me a medal back in 2022 and got me Volunteer of the Year in 2023, and got me to here where I'm at risk of being kicked out. The medal had an edgy feel, as three of the most prominent leaders at the time got them, ( I think they were for Loyalty, Diligence and Excellence) right before we were, not gently, pushed out of leadership with the many methods that have been used against us. 

Pushing people out of leadership happens. If they aren't a good fit for the times, or are promoting things that aren't good for the market community, maybe they need encouragement to step away, which usually comes with voting, and none of us were up for any votes. We were the natural leaders who got there by accepting the responsibilities of shepherding the areas we were experts in. Now years later we are seeing the effects of losing that expertise, but that's another long post I won't likely be writing. 

That loyalty now makes me feel stupid. Was I loyal to an imaginary concept? To nostalgia? To my own role that I took so seriously? To our bylaws? To our founders? To my co-members, who depended on me? It was never about power for me, so I was always actively looking for younger and more energetic members to take over my duties, and ready to mentor. I had been trying to retire from leadership for a few years by then. But when I did resign, I intentionally did not make a big statement, because I could see how fragile things were and I wanted no part in destroying anything. And I still don't. 

I've held back from many of my options to be gentle and supportive while the volunteers and members struggle, and have only done this whistle-blowing out of my love for justice and truth, and my respect for the membership. Just know that if you are reading what I am saying, there is a lot I haven't said. There are quite a few people I would like to fight for. As a target myself, I don't want to make things worse for them. That feels intensely disloyal. So again, I am examining my loyalty and what it is really about. 

It's about my entire community, which is not confined to my market people or that organization. I've invested my life here and there are things that show, that I've co-created and sustained, like the Radar Angels, Jell-O Art Show, Slug Queens, parts of OCF, all the hundreds of groups and organizations and fundraisers that I've supported by making affordable t-shirts and donating to their causes, and all of that. I have given of myself to my town and the world, and done my best to live a good and productive life for everything around me. I personally have an amazing legacy of what I have built, including this kitchen I am writing from now. I'm proud of my growth and accomplishments, and grateful for the people who have helped me.

I used to think I was really selfish, so trained myself to be more generous. As my abundance increased, I found that easier. Still, I rarely put myself first, since as a daughter of the 1950's, I was not taught to do that. I have no problem supporting other people to put their needs first, but it's hard for me. 

But now, when I think about selling for the next four weeks outside, with the hand cramps in the cold, the physical effects on the next day, and the challenges of holding boundaries and watching my every word and action all day long, I'm seeing the benefits of just not going down there. I need the money, but the cost is bigger than the fees. All of us know how good it feels to turn over in bed and pull up the covers, or read quietly in the morning instead of gearing up and putting in that 12-hour day, so I know people would understand. It would be a loss, not just for me, if I didn't show up. Another empty space, another disappointed shopper, one fewer smiling face under a warm hat, won't amount to a lot, I tell myself. 

The balance has shifted. Everyone goes away sometime. That's what the downriver effects are of what has happened. I guess I will see how this week unfolds. It is going to be wet and cold, and all the pretty leaves will blow around and turn to mush in the gutters. I'm going out now to rake some up so those gutters will drain. We're in a changing climate. How are we responding? 

Freedom

 Upon reflection, I feel like the organization handed me a gift. Since I can no longer refer to that person in any identifiable way, they can just no longer exist for me.

That will be a huge relief.