WAYSIDE MARKETS T IMES change, and we keep on lamenting that
this or that is different from twenty years ago. But changes are not all for the worse, and they sometimes bring new opportunities.
Henry Ford has done more to alter the modes of life in his own country and ours than most dynasties which lasted for generations. The introduction of the cheap car has enormously diversified the lives of the urban population, and has also brought new possibilities within the reach of country dwellers. Amongst other things it has brought the urban consumer to the country producer's door.
Cars of possible consumers pour out of the towns at holiday and other times. They have a keen eye for picking up a mushroom here and there, flowers, a few green branches, or some other crumb from the rural table. In America I saw a spirited attempt to make the most of this, and to eliminate the middle man by selling direct. In the enchanted land of New Hampshire during the "fall," under an even blue sky, purple hills .rise above a flutter of scarlet and orange leaves. All along these roads, where the red coats marched in 1775, at every farm and corner are little wayside markets. Great jars of cider, through which the setting sun throws shafts of light, glow like immense topazes. Heaped round them arc flaming scarlet apples, and long yellow pumpkins. These marvels of colour are modestly laid on a board stretched across two barrels standing up on end. On a small blackboard, or piece of plank, prices are roughly chalked. The passing motorist, happy as child in his day in the country, can get for a few cents that most abiding joy of childhood, "something to take home" to the city.
Since I returned to England I have wondered whether we in this country could not do more in the way of wayside markets. I have seen attempts at it in more than one place. An artist of my acquaintance, who is also a farmer, is preparing a portrait of his finest pedigree ram to be placed in the corner of a field. Passers-by can judge of the quality of the flock, and enquiring Jasons can turn aside in quest of the golden fleece. But wayside markets need to be more numerous and better known. Our lanes are narrow and winding, and the subdued colours of our produce much less spectacular than those of New Hampshire. The passing motorist does not expect to see them, and often does not notice them. If they were a more established fact, town people could count on getting eggs, apples, or cut flowers.
• Small producers, with no trouble to themselves, 'might have regular customers coming to their doors, and would be saved all trouble and selling expenses. The plant, either two barrels and a board, or an old deal table, is not costly or hard to come by. It would help those who have not a sufficiently large or regular supply for a shop or town market, and interest the town buyer in the difficulties and vicissitudes of food production. It would perhaps also incline him to a more friendly interest in agriculture, and make him realize that the swallowing up of arable and other farming land by houses is not without its dangers.
It is amusing to picture a great development in wayside markets. We may live to see a stream of cars filled with those eminent physicians and diet experts who advise us so movingly to eat home-grown and not tinned foods going out from the cities to put into practice their theories of" safety first " in eating.
BARBARA ISLIP.
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