Every early September, visitors jostle gently along the lanes of the small village harvest market. A cheerful hawker calls out from his booth at the lane corner. He holds up a wicker basket heaped with plump blackberries. Passersby catch a whiff of luscious, tangy jam bubbling in pots behind his counter. Light, playful banter floats between regular customers and booth keepers. Many visitors glean small treasures as they wander. They often linger for an hour or more after finishing their shopping lists. Bountiful displays of autumn produce line every wooden table. Hand-thrown earthenware bowls sit beside jars of golden wildflower honey. Elderly sellers chuckle when children sneak samples of dried apple slices. The mellow taste of fresh pear nectar draws small crowds each weekend. Most guests tuck a small jar of homemade spread into their bags before leaving. Cordial greetings pass between neighbors who meet between the booths. Soft breezes waft the scent of cinnamon and baked oats across the grounds. A small cluster of teen volunteers hands out free paper maps to first-time guests. Friends swap stories of their week as they share a warm scone. The lively patter of booth holders creates a warm, welcoming atmosphere for all.