DAY
TWENTY-FIVE
Today is Market Day at Kentville
again, about 50 miles up the Annapolis Valley—which is the large agricultural
area of Nova Scotia. More produce is
grown, fruit trees cover the area, berry bushes abound. We have gone there two times already (it is
held every Wednesday in downtown Kentville) so this was the last time for us to
go there for this trip.
We drove there using the old
road—Highway 1—instead of the faster moving freeway-like 101. The road takes you through small towns along
the way that have beautiful old homes dating back into the early 1900s or
earlier. There are many homes for sale,
even some of the very beautiful ones.
The road also passes through some of those communities that bear only a
name but nothing else. It is a pleasant
drive mostly at 55 mph or less but on a sunny day with little else to do it is
nice to just drive along slowly and look at what is along the road.
The market is held downtown on a
parking lot surrounded by other existing businesses. Farmers bring their produce. Crafts persons bring what they have
made—soap, woodwork products, things that whirl in the wind, and other things
that catch the eye. Prepared foods are
offered by part time restaurateurs.
Bakers bring their breads and pastries.
Sometimes there is music provided by a couple of musicians playing
guitar and banjo or fiddle.
The atmosphere is almost fair-like
with people visiting and laughing, stopping to look at the many booths,
sampling some of the food products, buying things to put in their shopping
bags. In weeks past we have bought
vegetables and bread from a nice couple who seem to be of the Mennonite
faith. She wears a bonnet and a long
dress with an apron. He wears plain gray
clothing most times. They grow and sell
green beans, onions, garlic, and blueberries.
She makes several kinds of bread—we love the oatmeal molasses bread and
have bought a loaf of it each time we have been there.
Doris bought a sarong from a woman
who makes them for sale at the market.
The woman is named Joyce and she has chatted with us each time we have
been there. Two weeks ago when we were
talking to her she told us that she is Irish and she comes from Cape Breton
Island. She told us about the Red Shoe
Pub (which we intended to visit when we were there) and about the singers
called the Rankins who own it. Then she
began to sing an Irish folksong to us as we all stood there in the market. She has a lovely voice and the song was a
slow sad song about someone telling someone else goodbye. She laughed when she stopped and apologized
for her voice not being good, which I told her she was mistaken. She sang beautifully.
We also met a woman who sells
homemade skin care products that contain emu oil. She calls herself Nana and that is on her
label. She was intrigued by our being
from Texas and said her husband is a bluegrass singer and had been to
Texas. She said she knew someone by the
same name as a woman Doris taught with years ago. We still have to investigate if it is the
same person when we get home.
Everyone at the market who met Bo
loved him. Bo was the center of
attention many times, drawing people to leave their booths and come over to
look at him and ask about him. People
cannot believe that he is 9 years old since he looks very puppy like.
The markets happen in many towns in
this area weekly during the summer months.
We will go to the Annapolis Royal market this Saturday for the last time
before we leave on Sunday to begin our journey back to Texas. We really do not go to them looking for
specific items but we usually find things that we enjoy seeing or tasting or
learning about. There is a community
spirit there. Even if one buys little or
nothing, it is the experience of being a part of it that brings some meaning to
life.
Being part of the market is similar
to being part of the religious community.
When we all gather to share a common experience, we belong to a higher
purpose than we do alone. We share in
the experience of worship, of course, breaking bread and drinking wine and
singing and listening and praying. We
share in the lives of one another as we share joys and concerns together and
support each other in myriad ways. The
shared experience happens in many avenues of life but in the Christian
community it has a purpose and meaning that transcends all the other
experiences in life.
Each of us is important to the whole
that we call the Body of Christ. Each of
us has a purpose that is important to the Body as a whole and if a member of it
is absent then it is not complete. What
each person contributes is unique and cannot be provided by others in the same
exact manner even if someone else does what is needed to be done. The Body cannot function well unless all its
parts are working in good order and are doing the jobs they are designed to
do. Each part of the Body of Christ must
be present in order for it to be complete.
That is one reason why we miss individuals when they are not present for
worship and work that needs to be done.
Each one is needed and necessary.
“For
just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body,
though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. For in the One Spirit we are all baptized
together into one body—Jews or Greeks, slaves or free—and we were all made to
drink of one Spirit.” (I Corinthians 12:12-13)
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