Farmers' Market -- at least for 2016. Because it's December, there wasn't much available in the way of produce, but the vendors made up for that with trinkets, crafts and a huge assortment of baked goods. There were also plenty of jars of jam, jelly and juice -- the traditional preserves resulting from summer's bounty.
I was lucky enough to get there just in time to get the last dozen eggs from my faithful supplier. She's kind enough to come into town during the winter so we don't have to resort to store-bought (tired) ones.
Even for a humbugger like me, the carols (unlike the annoyingly tinny ones at the mall), played on an accordion, helped set the tone of neighbourly warmth.
The ritual of the farmers' market is an example of community at its best. Come May, when it's back outside, we'll be there Sunday mornings -- even if not 'to buy a fat pig.' And as always, while we go about choosing our fruit and vegies we'll chat and hug and laugh with each other, recognizing that even if we don't live next door each other, we're neighbours.