In 1936, a group of folks who lived in Hanover, New Hampshire and affiliated with Dartmouth College created a small cooperative for the purpose of buying citrus fruit at a price they couldn't get separately. This was during the Great Depression (as opposed to the Great Recession, which is where we are at the moment though I believe the difference is merely one of semantics) so pooling their purchasing power made a great deal of sense.
In fact, it made so much sense that the group began to purchase other difficult-to-afford commodities together. The idea, as good ideas will, grew into the necessity of housing the coop in a garage and then in a storefront on Main Street in Hanover and then in a freestanding store.
When we moved to the Upper Valley in 1986, the only coops we knew were small struggling operations that faded when the central volunteers burned out. So being able to shop in a single store where you could buy fresh meat packaged to your specifications, flours, rice, and cereals in bulk, and local produce was a revelation.
As I said, good ideas attract followers and lots of other Upper Valley-ites were having the same epiphany. Soon the store had to hire a parking attendant to direct traffic on weekends and holidays, and getting in and out of the Coop became a serious challenge.
Since this is a membership-owned grocery store run by an elected board and not some who-cares-as-long-as-we're-making-money corporation, we all get to decide the Coop's future, and the crowding issue in Hanover assumed a permanent position at the top of everyone's agenda. In 1996, we voted to create a second store about two miles down the road just over the town line in Lebanon, New Hampshire. That's where this picture was taken this morning.
So what does this have to do with stocking up? Every October, the Co-op returns to its roots by holding a caselot sale. It's arguably the most popular event of the year.
It's all part of the mindset that invades our brains when the leaves start to droop from the trees—harvest the basil for pesto, cut back the gardens so they're ready for spring, put the lawn furniture and the kayaks away, stack wood.
It's also the time of year when I tick off the chores that disappear for a while—mowing, weeding, maintaining the trail in the woods. My fingers itch for yarn and fabric, an itch I scratch with abandon. Late fall, winter and early spring—time to stock up and tuck ourselves in so we can enjoy the pleasures of cold weather.
Yeah, I'm ready!
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