Hujiaozhuang Farmers' Market Opens on Sunday: Going Grocery Shopping with Grandma

Lead image courtesy of Hujiaozhuang Farmers' Market  Photography/  Bomy

Since I started researching markets, the question that has often troubled me is, laughably, a very simple one: What is a farmers' market?

I have discussed this with my boss no fewer than several times, yet we always ended up trailing off over the details. But today, when I came to Hujiaozhuang Farmers' Market, I discovered that the answer to this question is perfectly clear. No words are needed; you just have to feel it with your heart.

Living on the edge of the city, I rarely have the chance to see crops growing in the fields. But at a farmers' market, I found a very tight connection; it lets me understand what crops look like, the changes of the seasons, and even a feeling for nature.

(The May snow we look forward to)

Today the Hujiaozhuang market had only a few stalls. After Xiaoqi gave a brief introduction, we set off along Lovers' Path. It is said to be for lovers, but it became a treasure hunt for the four of us women.

Along the way, we counted the tung trees standing like utility poles, marveling the whole way. The wonder and the sighs came, respectively, from the vigor and beauty of plant life, and from human craftsmanship that rivals nature.

I will remember the delicate, beautiful patterns on those unnamed seeds, and the clusters of snow-like blossoms we look forward to in May.

(Lovers' Path)

At the end of the trail was a secret spot known only to high-speed rail enthusiasts. On the bridge, we lay in ambush like paparazzi, waiting for the chance to catch the fleeting silhouette of a train whizzing past.

(A local secret spot)

Yet what became vivid images in my mind were the light and shadow in the treetops, the maple leaves, and the clear water flowing in the irrigation ditch.

Walking slowly downhill, we saw beautiful cabbage flowers and a large field of cosmos. We stepped in without caring whose garden it was, and we tiptoed cautiously, afraid of falling into the ditch. I was curious: how do farmers all have such good balance? With field ridges like balance beams, how come you never see a farmer fall in?

(Cosmos)

(Cabbage "flowers")

As we strolled slowly, the market had already packed up. The girl who loves seeds especially wanted to eat large mustard greens today. Eyeing the fresh-picked produce by someone's door, we began looking around for a trace of mustard greens.

From a distance it looked like some, but up close it was not. One moment we found our target, only for it to be too thin and small to pick; the next moment we found mustard greens, but then suddenly forgot who owned the garden and did not know whom to buy from.

In the end, we found an elderly woman still at the market, just finished packing up and not yet gone home, and asked her to let us pick from her garden.

(In Grandma's garden were the large mustard greens we had been longing for)

Grandma grows all her vegetables herself. She has three small plots, and each market day she pushes freshly picked vegetables in a wheelbarrow, walking 30 minutes to set up a stall in the market park. To little Wei, those 30 minutes felt like a very long distance, and we were also amazed at how Grandma could go back and forth over such a steep slope and safely haul her vegetables into place.

I realized that farmers are very resilient. It seems that when the obstacles of nature meet a farmer, they always get smoothly and lightly worked around. In the garden, Grandma casually picked a large mustard green and even threw in a big cloth bag, making the seed-loving girl beam with smiles.

Grandma lives here by herself, and her family very much wants to bring her to the city. Fortunately, the market gives her life a focus. Her three separate plots and thin labor force make large-scale production impossible, which saves her the effort of dealing with wholesalers. Grandma's garden has everything: cauliflower, mustard greens, scallions, corn, cabbage... Small-scale, diverse planting can both support her and supply consumers' needs. The interactions with people at the market have helped Grandma make many friends and also maintain the economic needs of her life.

Grandma is very grateful for a market like this. She kept picking vegetables and stuffing them into little Wei's father's hands, and we laughed and said: If she keeps picking, we'll need to bring a truck to haul it all.

Waving goodbye to Grandma, I kept deeply reflecting on the meaning of the market.

A market, especially a production-area market, does not necessarily need producers to keep written records to be trustworthy; it does not necessarily need high prices to show the grade of the food. It can be very approachable, very simple, and farmers' hopes are also very simple: that the results of their hard work can be sold smoothly and reasonably.

How good such simplicity is.

I sincerely hope that farmers' sorrows can grow fewer and fewer. Take a trip to Hujiaozhuang, visit a farmers' market once, and you will understand if you feel it with your heart. Next time someone asks me: What is a farmers' market? Please come walk it with me once.

Hujiaozhuang Farmers' Market