Amber shards of molten sunshine — morning rays tinged with warmth — bedeck a cheery tablecloth. Aligned just so, near the center of the drape, a phalanx of pristine jars, each clearly labeled, dazzles a curious crowd of Saturday morning shoppers.
“Oh look! Big Leaf Maple!” says one. “Does it taste like syrup?” While onlookers listen, the proprietor, who is also the beekeeper, describes the difference between maple syrup and maple honey and explains why big-leaf maple honey is rare — an accurate accounting followed by a flurry of sales.
Beside the one-pound jars, the table presents an assortment of varietal honey in smaller sizes. Beribboned baskets of soaps and lotions, a half dozen pairs of tapered candles, and a mason jar chock-full of honey straws flank the display. Above them, a digital photo frame rotates through images of the home apiary.
Visitors to the table can dip a pretzel stick in a sample of blackberry honey and kids can get a free honey straw (with parental approval). A poster-size price list hangs overhead, offering to accept cash, check, or card. And for the preternaturally sticky, wet wipes (and a trash bucket) are available on request.
Because I’ve heard local rumors, I scrabble through the varietals until I find my prize: a tiny jar of poison-oak honey. But while hunting, I spot Japanese knotweed and snowberry. Who can resist? Intending to buy one jar, I buy three instead. Such is the power of marketing.
Competitors everywhere
The farmers market is long, airy, and covered in a style befitting the soaked Pacific coast. Each of the stalls features roll-up access for vendors, who can back their pickups to a display table. Competition among vendors is keen. Even before I reach the honey, bins of wild-caught mushrooms — chanterelles, oysters, and candy caps — pyramids of luminous jams and jellies, and tables of variegated squash in homey shapes vie for my attention.
Intermingled with fresh produce, stands of cut flowers, appliqued aprons, and framed art jockey for attention. At the front end of the market, despite being near the main entrance, another honey table is barren of visitors. When I first arrived at the market and approached that table, the two attendants did not rise from their chairs nor interrupt their private conversation. I eyed their honey but couldn’t decipher …
