It's over.

It’s over.

Yesterday was the last time this year or ever that the Bluffton Farmers Market will happen in the “park” next to the Old Oyster Factory. I went there about an hour early, taking as I often do a mini-vacation to scenic Bluffton. It was such a nice afternoon, coolish early fall temps with only a few high clouds. If you saw me there, you may also have seen me parked by the Church of the Cross, drinking a Coke and reading the local papers.

The Church has become quite an attraction, and this week has offered tours with box lunches. In the time I sat there, I saw license plates from probably a dozen different states. I like the Church too, but, honestly, in accordance with my frequent signature line, “I liked it better the way it was.” It’s very nicely manicured these days, with what looks like a carefully chosen and applied paint job. I guess that’s a good thing, as Calhoun Street properties like Seven Oaks set a higher tone. But one of the things that attracts me to old Bluffton streets is its random and sometimes ramshackle sights. Many of the newer, and more carefully assembled neighborhoods just don’t do it for me. And, then, of course there are the trees and Spanish Moss and overgrown plantings that I love. No accounting for taste.

My plan was to go to the market and maybe buy an Arts and Seafood Festival tee-shirt. I’m pretty well stocked on the other things that might be for sale in late October. And I’d already had lunch so the wonderful prepared food didn’t have its usual appeal. But for whatever emotional reason (now there’s a contradiction in terms), I just didn’t feel like hanging there, even as I enjoyed the smells and the sights and the people setting up. It has been a wonderful season at the Market, even when for a few weeks, it seemed to start showering every Thursday afternoon around three o’clock. I may never forget the welcome offered on one of those rainy days by a group of women in bright orange hats who seemed to be directing the parking. And I hope I never forget the lovely public thank you letter that was written just a few weeks ago by a young people’s group for the way they had been treated as volunteers at the Market.

I understand the reasons why the Bluffton Farmers Market has to find another location: the unprecedented numbers who came, the parking, etc. But it will be hard to replicate the charm that is part of the draw, along with the wares. I’ll be back next year though, and I will wish the effort success. I will hope for those moments when I bump into someone I haven’t seen in a while, and when I spot a must-have plant or cookbook or whatever among the local produce that originally brought me there. Thank you to everyone who gave me those moments this summer.