A Sunday morning at the Kingfield Farmers’ Market builds like birdsong at dawn. At first light, there’s only the soft hum of an engine or two, the gentle squeaking of canopies unfolding and boxes being shuffled from truck bed to tabletop. Then comes the murmur of voices, vendors greeting one another or asking the market manager where to set up for the day.
By 8:30 am, the park blooms with noise as the neighborhood arrives. Friends chat over coffee and fresh-baked pastries. Kiddos dance to the beat of live music. Parents debate the merits of different veggies for weekly meal prep. Novice growers and green thumbs alike swap advice with the Master Gardeners. For 25 years, this has been the soundtrack to Sunday mornings in the Kingfield neighborhood – but it hasn’t always looked like this.
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