This past Wednesday our local farmers market opened for the last and only day in November to give producers one more day to sell, and customers a last grab at some fresh goods before Thanksgiving. As luck would have it, the latest polar vortex gave us a clear morning with a balmy temp of 17 degrees F. And though I was feeling thankful not to be buried under a mountain of snow like our friends to the north, I was having doubts the night before whether or not I would venture out in the cold the following morning. I was pretty sure customers would number in the single digits and sales would resemble a round number. Our local market, Church Street Farmers Market, is still a new market and foot traffic is thin on nice days, so what would be the point right? Well, I’ve made a habit of doing pointless things my whole life. Sometimes, it pays to show up. So I got up the next morning at six, applied liberal amounts of coffee to my attitude, and ventured out in the cold. I was surprised that most of the usual vendors showed and some regular customers trickled through despite the biting cold. We didn’t sell much, but I felt like we accomplished something more. We were there. We told customers we would be, and we were. The only way small, fledgling markets will survive is with consistency and dependability. So we did our part, and I was feeling good about it when the bonus round came our way. We made arrangements with a customer to place some hives on a fifty acre field of rape in the spring. This will benefit our cause far more than any honey I could have sold. It is hard to stay focused on moving forward with beekeeping this time of year, so on a day that was set up to flop we got a shot in the arm. Get up, get going, show up.