As I’ve mentioned before, I come from a small town in West Virginia. Summersville, W.Va. had about 2,000 people in it when I was growing up there.

Around these parts, Hamptonroadsters look upon Suffolk as a small town, but it’s as big as I can deal with.

My wife and I were looking for a house once and she was using a realtor from a firm in Norfolk. He told her there was one south of downtown that appeared to have everything she was looking for, but we probably would want it, “because it was so far away from everything.” By everything, of course, he meant everything in Norfolk. He couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting to go to Norfolk to hang out.

When we went to a mall, we had to go Charleston. It was an 80-mile, nearly three-drive over winding mountain roads. To us, the Whaleyville area would have been the ultimate in convenience. Size is relative.

I’m getting spoiled, I guess, and growing accustomed to your big city conveniences like nice restaurants and cultural centers, indoor plumbing and your fancy telephone machines, but there are times when I miss small town life.

Which brings me to the subject of this piece, the Suffolk Farmer’s Market.

It’s held every Saturday morning in season on the grounds of the train station. I dropped by Saturday morning and walked around squeezing some veggies and checking out the variety of breads.

It reminded me of home and old-timey, small-town life. The farmers would roll into town every Saturday morning and set up shot on the courthouse lawn (I really miss having a courthouse lawn, where Squirrel Shaffer, the town drunk, would often be sleeping one off on one of the benches when the farmers were backing in their pickups. We have a courthouse concrete here.) They would sell potatoes and various chopped up pig pieces, mostly potatoes which thrived in the cool, high altitudes. People would mill about and then, just like their forefathers did, lie down in the ergonomic massage chair and have a massage.

Saturday was the first time I had been to the Suffolk Farmer’s Market in a while and there amongst the breads, produce, and homemade goodies, was some dude lying face down in one of those space age looking chairs getting a rub down from a young lady. It just seemed kind of out of place to me, but what do I know?.

In all seriousness, though, the Farmer’s Market is pretty neat, and I highly recommend a visit. I picked up a large bag of fresh, shelled butter beans for 3 bucks and a loaf of whole wheat honey bible bread. I had heard about the bread before and had been anxious to try it. It was pretty good but I don’t think worth the $5 a loaf.

And I might add the place was packed, too. I went by around 10 and there were a few dozen people there shopping. When I went back by an hour later on my way home the place was still hopping. Please support these folks who are coming out and encourage others. You can get some real treats, too, along with an authentic massage, just like real farmers get.