There are certain historical events that capture our imaginations well out of proportion to their actual significance. For example, the Pony Express populates current novels, television shows and movies, even though mail delivery was quickly and thoroughly absorbed by trains and telegraph lines in a matter of months.
Curiously, the plots always seems to include a young girl foiled by serendipitous events that reveal her gender. Thus she is ineligible to ride hard, shoot straight, and get the mail to the next station uninterrupted, despite the fact that s/he has done so for half the story prior to her “outing.”
Also capturing the imaginations of viewing audiences of Saturday matinees is the westward migration of innumerable pioneers in pursuit of rumored mining bonanzas, limitless farm land, or just plain old adventure. We continue to find moving images of prairie schooners creaking and wobbling their way slowly across the plains toward promised new beginnings. Like the legends of Pony Express orphans (demonstrable myth), stories of wagon trains have durable plot lines. A broken wagon wheel results from lack of due diligence with the grease pail. A runaway team spooked by a thunderstorm or rattlesnake races at top speed until the wagon has shed enough vital parts to crumble into a pile of rubble. And, of course, we wait for the inevitable attack that compels the wagon master to give the command to circle the wagons.
The wagons that gather in the Aroostook Centre Mall Parking lot on Saturday mornings between 8:30 a.m. and 1 p.m. are more likely to carry fresh garden greens, frozen meat, and delicious bakery goods than a grease bucket. Stori bord coffee is decidedly NOT boiled in a can over the campfire. Joseph’s furniture and Elizabeth’s cookies arrive by wagon, but participating horses are noteworthy in their absence of concern about anything that would interrupt enjoyment of their nose bags.
Presque Isle Farmers Market vendors just don’t seem to offer that sort of adventure.
Members do, however, have conversations about circling the wagons for our own self-preservation. At times, it really does appear that we may need to protect our “young-uns” from incipient marauders. Particularly on cold, windy mornings, prospective customers are loath to emerge from their heated vehicles. They drive around and around, peering through gaps between the vendors’ parked vehicles. In some cases, they drive right straight through. Seeking the one object of their heart’s desire, they are oblivious to safety concerns.
We understand the “drive-by” browsers. We stand for hours in that chilly parking lot. However, it is our hope that our customers will get out and join us, stop at multiple tables and displays, discover welcome additions to the purchase that brought them to The Market in the first place, and drive away pleased with the outcome.
Please stop by.