THAT TIME I WAS WITH SANTA IN THE PARADE

   Merry Christmas to all our friends! This is the time of year that customers wander into the fruit market, stand stock still in their tracks and gaze about them in wonder. I’d like to think it’s because our Christmas trees look so majestic and our decorations are so festive, but it’s usually because they were looking for kohlrabi and didn’t know that the fruit/veg aspect of the fruit market is  seasonal. We can fill your kohlrabi needs once again starting March 6, 2019 at 6 a.m., but for now, the fruit market is a Christmas tree forest.

   And it’s brimming with beautiful, NW grown trees. Yes, there’s still a shortage of trees, nation-wide, but we’ve been able to get most of what we’ve ordered, and the trees look beautiful. Talking to our growers, we can see that the shortage will linger into the future; this year’s drought and high temperatures were very unkind to recently planted seedlings, and there still aren’t enough young people willing to take up the tree-farmer lifestyle as the older farmers retire. But right now, it’s nothing but fresh beauty here at YFM, so come on down! 

   We’re open 7 days a week from 8 a.m. - 9 p.m. every day during tree season. It’s reasonable of you to ask how long our tree season lasts, and our answer is: when the trees are all gone, so are we! Typically we’re here until 4-5 days before Christmas, but last year we wrapped up earlier, so we just never know.

   Our motto at the market is “Celebrate the Seasons With Us,” and we like to enjoy the here-and-now of every season in its turn, but several year ago just as cherry and apricot season were beginning, I felt the urgent need to celebrate Christmas: the Fourth of July parade was rapidly approaching and I still didn’t have a plan for our float.

   Rummaging through a closet in late June I discovered our Santa suit, and thought, Ah-ha! A Christmas theme float complete with Santa! I drafted a very reluctant employee named Kevin to play Santa. He really didn’t want to do it, but there wasn’t much waffle room, especially since he was not only an employee, but a friend of the family.

   Because she’s always up for a parade, I drafted our employee Bridget to be Mrs. Santa and gave her some cash to go get a Mrs. Santa costume. Of course she came back with a Sultry Mrs. Santa costume, but honestly, what else was I expecting?

   Quickly, our fabrication department cobbled together our float on the market’s flatbed trailer. It was one of our less elaborate efforts, but it looked really good: green trees, red flowering mandevilla baskets, wrapped gifts, and a patio lounge chair for Santa. Turns out there had also been an elf costume in the Santa costume box, so our employee Justeen was tapped to be head elf, in charge of our interns Alisha and Olivia, who were old pros at passing out parade candy. My plan was all coming together nicely, and with 100 pounds of Walla Walla Sweet Onions and 200 pounds of parade candy to distribute, we were ready to hit it on the very warm, sunny morning of the Fourth.

   Mind you, for the week preceding the parade, I’d been exposed to Kevin’s grumbling about his role as Jolly Old St. Nick. Truthfully, Kevin had a sweet twinkle to his eye, but he was not natural Santa material. And Bridget began to express her reservations about the whole Santa concept. She felt that Santa was a near sacred figure, and perhaps we were exploiting him in a too-commercial manner. I argued that we weren’t saying that Santa SHOPPED at the fruit market, merely that Santa was our honored friend. But in time, I came to wonder if my idea was going to be a bust.

   When you’re in Bothell’s 4th of July parade, you spend a lot more time in the pre-parade line-up than you do actually parading. The parade itself is over in a glorious swoosh of color and motion, but you’re parked for about 3 hours at the UW/Cascadia campus, which is an excellent opportunity to trade candy with other paraders, admire every one else’s floats and steal ideas for next year. And also, to begin to stew with apprehension that maybe, just maybe, Bridget was right. That Santa was a pure concept of childhood innocence and perhaps our presentation would be viewed as cheesey.

    In the parking lot before the parade, Justeen had her hands full wrangling the interns who were both in grade school then; Kevin stalked off to look at the hot rods in his full Santa regalia, and Bridget was trying to figure out how to hike up her Sultry Mrs, Santa skirt so it was even shorter. Me, I was in the back of the pickup truck with my onions and candy, fretting abut how our float would be perceived.

   Lots of time to ponder and worry! Even when your section of the line begins to move, you wend slowly, through the parking lot, past the headstones, lilacs and big firs of the Bothell Cemetery, until you hit Sunrise Drive and burst onto the parade route at Kaysner Way and Main. The folks who live on Sunrise are your first audience, and although they were happy to get our candy, they weren’t too vocal about Santa, making me even more nervous.

   But the minute we rolled onto Main Street, the waves of love began to wash over us. Frantically shoveling candy and onions from the back of the truck into the baskets of Justeen and the elvish interns, I could hear people shouting “It’s the fruit market! They have Santa!” and “Santa, I love you,” shouted by kids and adults alike. “Santa, I love Rudolph!” “Santa, did you like my cookies?” “Thank you for the bike Santa!” and over and over, excitement and pure love for Santa. 

   I caught Santa’s eye, and Kevin gave me a knowing nod. How could he not? All the love was for him. I’m sure there was  also great appreciation for Sultry Mrs. Santa, and who doesn’t love getting a Walla Walla Sweet onion  or some candy from an elf?

   As we rolled past McMenamin’s, I heard a little boy exclaim: “Look Daddy! Santa has a tattoo!” Kevin had refused to wear Santa’s boots on that very hot day, and the Santa breeches were knee length, so he was wearing flip flops and the tattoo art on his leg was there for the world to see.

    I will always cherish the memory of that little boy’s discovery that Santa was into body art, and I will always cherish the time I spent on that float with my elf, my interns, sultry Mrs. Santa and Santa, the man himself.

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   Kevin, the man himself is a legendary figure here at the market. He was a poet, a pirate and a produce man. His pickles were incredible; he loved to fish and hunt and can his own homegrown produce. Home-smoked meats were his forte. He loved history, had a college degree and was a certified mechanic. He was a friend of the family and worked with us for ten years, dying unexpectedly of natural causes at age 29. We miss him every day, but he is part of the fullness of every season here at the market, and as we celebrate each one in its turn, Kevin’s place in those seasons endures.

Wishing you the fullness of joy to cherish in the here and now, and in every season in its turn.

                                                           Fruitfully yours,  KARIN