Saturday is farmer's market day in North Hatley, Quebec. The stalls were erected by an association of local producers who desired to market their wares directly to the public, so twenty stalls form a three sided rectangle market with a common area in between. Every Saturday until October, the sounds of both languages compete, and complement each other as buyers and sellers share their opinions on the merits of the harvest of lettuce and squash, speculate on the arrival of the apples and pumpkins and share news of upcoming community events. Some of the vendors sell produce, some sell freshly baked bread stuffs, one sells her paintings which she has made into greeting cards, and one sells Middle Eastern and Indian curries, chutneys, spreads and pastries.
Saturday is farmer's market day in North Hatley, Quebec. The stalls were erected by an association of local producers who desired to market their wares directly to the public, so twenty stalls form a three sided rectangle market with a common area in between. Every Saturday until October, the sounds of both languages compete, and complement each other as buyers and sellers share their opinions on the merits of the harvest of lettuce and squash, speculate on the arrival of the apples and pumpkins and share news of upcoming community events. Some of the vendors sell produce, some sell freshly baked bread stuffs, one sells her paintings which she has made into greeting cards, and one sells Middle Eastern and Indian curries, chutneys, spreads and pastries.
Going to farmers market has become something of a community pilgrimage for this minister. My marketing is a form of parish calling. There is the table set up by the North Hatley Historical Society to visit and chatting with our antiquarians is a must. They are excited when I tell them that the U.U.A. now has a history list on the Internet. They want to chat with others about what they are finding in Universalist archives. They introduce me to their fellow history buffs, and we talk local history; genealogies of local families, the old colour of the school house. Then I check out the table of Societe Lac Massawippi who are carrying on an educational campaign about all various threats to the ecology to our lake. I stop at the Jensen's both for a friendly moment, and pick up the order of services for tomorrow. Lin is a goat farmer who is also our congregational computer expert. His cheese is wonderful and I suspect it of being addictive. I pass on buying some this week. Two booths down is Philippe and Annette who supply my needs for Indian cooking sauces, I give Phillippe my recipe of hope, and he recommends the sauce. Annette is a conservatory trained soprano who helps to make the music in our little congregation. Their child is becoming impatient with market day, and Annette is preoccupied. I pick up fresh bread from Lucy who is teaches Sunday school, and spend an hour talking with several non-farming congregants who like me have come to shop and talk.
Somewhere in school I learned the theories of Gemeinshaft and Gesellshaft. I wouldn't want to stand for examination on what I remember, but I recall that the people in the small isolated agricultural villages "know everything about each other" while the people in cities tend to their lives in more isolation from the close ties of community. The people in the village on one hand are tradition bound, while the people of the urban mass society live in the world of change and innovation. Obviously the times have changed for the people of this village; the cable television and satellite hookups bring them several dozen channels from all over North America, France and the United Kingdom. Many of my neighbors and quite a number of my congregants checked their e-mail before trudging off with their baskets to farmers market. What is served up at a pot luck supper is more likely to be Greek or Middle East than traditional Quebecois.
These people have ties to this place; graveyards on country roads contain the tombstones of their ancestors, they identify houses by the names of families who lived in them decades ago, they know the back roads up the hills and where the mushrooms grow. Tractors rumble along the country roads giving drivers an opportunity to slow down and take it all in. Dairy cows, sheep and goats are in the fields as one drives along. Because of widespread enthusiasm for local restoration and preservation efforts, there is an abundance of wonderful old buildings some in traditional Quebecois, and many in joyous Victorian styles. There is a growing ecological awareness and its practice means that the wilderness is coming back. Yet, the two hour drive into Montreal for a concert is not unusual, and neither is taking one's holidays in a far away place.
It could be argued that because of the rich agricultural land, or because of the beauty of the locale, or because of Canada's generous dairy supports, or because of the proximity to a major metropolis, this region, Quebec's Cantons d'est isn't typical of rural North America. But I suspect that what is happening here is not atypical either. A young person can grow up in this region, achieve University level education and continue to live here as engineer, business executive, attorney etc. Careers that had meant moving to the city are possible "in the country" now. Or one can become a "farmer" and grow organic cherry trees, or buy a herd of llamas, or bottle ones own fresh pesto and market it in Montreal, Ottawa and Quebec City.
The farmers I know are not bound by tradition, or limited by cultural isolation. Highly trained engineers, designers, medical researchers are moving into the area, hoping to achieve a lifestyle that is closer to nature and seeking the community of the small town.
I suspect many of us continue to understand rurality in terms of what has happened for most of this last century; a mass outward exodus of people seeking economic opportunity, seeking to escape rural poverty and the limits of small town life, a mass emigration that sent tens of thousands to the cities. Based on this historic experience, many of us assume that the Unitarian Universalist congregations in small towns and agricultural regions are "trapped" in a declining demographic regions, regions that offer limited cultural and intellectual opportunities. We assume that the people in the pews are the survivors of what once was. Experience tells us that we shouldn't invest our extension efforts in such communities. Meanwhile, the new communication technologies are enabling a revolution in the demographics and economics of these areas. The times are a changing, and our past experience may not yet reflect what is new and emerging in the countryside that is all around us.
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