The Farmer’s Market in Buckway was incredible every weekend. It was hard to believe how far it had come along in such a short time. Buckway has its share of culinary contributors. That’s for sure.
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Every morning I wake up and write the first thing that comes to mind, then write a story around it. This type of writing is sometimes called ’flash fiction’. This is Flash Fiction February. Get a book and have a complimentary paid subscription. → https://ycr.info ←
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Way out, almost all the way to Whisper Pass, is the Whisper Valley Orchard. They don’t tend to come to every Market Weekend, only when they feel it’s worth the drive, they know that if they miss a week, the next one will make up for any lack of income. Their intermittent presence also creates a sense of scarcity that makes it more exciting when they attend.
Pears and Apples, in case you’re wondering. That’s what they provide. It’s not uncommon for there to be some apple pie, and maybe some pear tarts, not just for treating, but to entice more sales and sell a couple recipe books. Of course, the obligatory apple butter. One with maple, and the other cinnamon. This way, people have to buy both to mix them.
As people are walking by and conversing at the booth. Several people comment that something seems odd this week. There are comments about people seeing something out of the corner of their eye as they pass. It is drawing even more people than usual to the booth.
The hosts seem to have no idea. They can’t explain it, but there is no doubt that something is drawing people to the booth. They look puzzled, shake or scratch their heads, tilting them. All the things people do with their heads when they are perplexed, that’s what people are doing. Taking off their hats and the whole business. Many of them feel obliged to buy a few things lest they seem rude.
A little girl giggles and runs over to the flat of apples, pointing. She laughs and points. The little one calls to her mother to come and see. Her mother comes to fetch her and the girl explains something, pointing, as though there is something behind a bag of pears at the other end of the flat. Her mother takes her hand and greets the hosts, then buys a couple of the pear tarts as they leave.
Across the walkway, there is a man with a dog on a leash. The dog is wagging is tail, and is focused on the booth. The pup seems mildly anxious about something over there. He begins to pull on the leash, causing the man to notice. As the man is pulled away from his conversation, he apologizes and turns his attention to the booth. He wonders what could be so interesting to his dog, because he sees nothing from there. He walks the dog over.
The dog is wagging enthusiastically. He acknowledges the hosts of the booth, but he is obviously more interested in something he notices at the back of the display. As long as the man is there, he gets one of the pies, and a recipe book.
This goes on all day, until they essentially run out of their stock at that booth. “It was a good idea to bring that Fae.” The man says to his wife. “I’m sorry I doubted you, let’s do it every time.” The woman peeks into a bag of pears and winks.
The End
544 Words
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