Rooted in Community: A Favorite Local Market Adventure

Every Tuesday, without fail, something wonderful happens in the next town over. Long before the rest of the world has finished its morning coffee, Root’s Country Market comes alive. It starts quietly at first, a few trucks pulling in, the soft murmur of vendors setting up, the smell of early morning coffee drifting across the lots, and then, before you know it, the place is buzzing. Root’s has been a Lancaster County staple since 1925, and in the hundred years since it first opened, it’s become something more than just a market. It’s a living, breathing community tradition.

Side bar: Locals pronounce it “Ruut’s,” not like tree roots, a small detail, but one that marks you as someone who really knows the place. Welcome to Lancaster County where nothing is pronounced like you think it would be, not even Lang-kiss-ter.

Roots is a sprawling labyrinth of over 175 indoor and outdoor stalls, each one offering a little piece of local life. You’ll find farmers with fresh produce still damp from the morning dew, bakers arranging pies so fragrant you can smell them before you see them, and crafters setting out handmade candles, quilts, and wooden toys. Step a little further and you’ll stumble into antiques and flea market finds, old tools, vintage glassware, forgotten records. It’s perfect for a treasure hunt! There’s even a livestock auction, which means you might be standing in line for a soft pretzel while hearing the rhythmic chant of a fast-talking auctioneer in the background. It’s part of the charm.

Root’s is the kind of place that engages all five senses at once. The air is thick with the smells of kettle corn and barbecued chicken, mingling with freshly turned earth from the produce stands and, occasionally, that unmistakable farm scent that reminds you you’re in the heart of the country. Fresh country air takes on a new meaning in farm country. There’s the shine of ripe tomatoes, the golden glow of honey jars, the colorful chaos of flower bouquets. Vendors call out greetings to regulars. 

If you visit during the busy seasons, late spring through early fall, the crowd hums like a hive. There’s a rhythm to it, a flow of movement as people drift from stall to stall, chatting, sampling, bargaining. You can lose hours wandering without realizing it. And then, just when you think you’ve seen it all, you’ll turn a corner and find something unexpected: a new baker, a quirky handmade sign, a table full of fresh herbs or a bin of farm-fresh eggs that look like they came from a paint box.

I may not be a morning person, but my favorite time at Root’s is the early morning, when the sun is barely up and the crowd hasn’t yet arrived. The vendors are still setting out their goods, the coffee is hot and strong, and there’s a quiet peace to it all. That’s when you can have those real, unhurried conversations, when you can talk to the man who grows the apples you buy every fall, or the woman who hand-pours every candle on her table. You’re not just shopping; you’re connecting.

What makes Root’s special isn’t just what you can buy, it’s who you’re buying it from. There’s something grounding about handing your money directly to the person who grew your tomatoes or baked your bread that morning. You can ask them how the season’s been, or what variety of pepper this is, or how long they’ve been coming to Root’s, and they’ll tell you, usually with a story that’s worth hearing.

Some families have been selling here for generations. Others are just starting out, testing their small business dreams one Tuesday at a time. Together, they form the heartbeat of this place, a reminder that commerce can still be personal, that community can be built over a counter full of peaches and pies.

And the prices? Let’s just say that fresh, local, and affordable aren’t mutually exclusive terms here. You can fill a tote bag with vegetables, grab a fresh-baked loaf of bread, and still have money left for lunch, maybe a chicken pot pie or a funnel cake, depending on how virtuous you’re feeling, and I am seldom neglect to give into temptation here. 

Root’s began back in 1925, when local farmers gathered to sell their goods directly to neighbors. A century later, it’s grown into a sprawling market and auction complex that somehow still feels small-town. It’s open year-round, rain, snow, or sunshine (not blizzards or floods though) every Tuesday without fail. Generations have grown up wandering its aisles, marking time not by the seasons but by the rhythms of Root’s, sweet corn in July, apples in October, wreaths and crafts in December.

It’s rare, in a world where everything feels increasingly online and anonymous, to have a place like this, one where you can see the faces behind your food, hear the laughter of old friends meeting up by the pretzel stand, and know that you’re part of something with roots (pun intended) deep in local soil.

Not everyone is lucky enough to have a place like Root’s right outside their door. For me, it’s not just a market, it’s a midweek adventure, a reminder to slow down and savor the simple joys: fresh food, friendly faces, a good deal, and a connection to the land and people that make up my home. Every visit feels different, but it always leaves me with that same contented feeling — a mix of nostalgia, community, and appreciation for the abundance that surrounds us.

So if you ever find yourself in Lancaster County on a Tuesday, make your way to Root’s. Come early, bring cash (although most vendors do now accept cards), and be ready to wander. Take in the smells, the sounds, the cheerful chaos of it all. Chat with the farmers and crafters, find something unexpected, and maybe grab a slice of shoo-fly pie for the road.

Because at Root’s, you’re not just shopping,  you’re stepping into a century-old story that still unfolds, week after week, right in the heart of the community.

How can you experience your own farmer’s market adventure?

If you don’t live near Lancaster County, don’t worry, almost every community has its own version of Root’s tucked away somewhere. Previously, it seemed farmer’s markets were going the way of the dodo, but community efforts have revived the practice all over as determined locals, with pride and love for their communities decided to reconnect us all with our roots. Look for local farmers markets or seasonal pop-ups in your town or the next one over. Many run weekly through the spring and summer, while others operate year-round. Visit early, bring cash, and take the time to talk with the people behind the tables. You’ll find that even the smallest market has its own personality, its own rhythm, and its own sense of community. It’s one of the easiest, and most rewarding, ways to connect with the place you call home.

Completed: A Tuesday in my childhood and ongoing into my adulthood

Miles from home: About 10

Cost: Free parking and however much you want to spend. My most recent visit was about 6 dollars.

Still looking for ideas to do in your own local community? Check out the rest of my Bucket List – most of the items completed from my own backyard!

Stop Measuring Your Life by Someone Else’s Clock

I spend a lot of time writing about things that you ought to do. I share adventures I’ve taken that I think you might enjoy and encourage the choices that make our lives better. After all, my goal, both for myself and for you, dear reader, is to build a life so rich and fulfilling that we no longer crave escape from it.

A life where our bucket list adventures don’t act as brief breaks from monotony, but as extensions of a life we already love.

Seldom do I write about what we shouldn’t do. But as we work toward creating lives worthy of gracing any bucket list, there are habits, beliefs, and quiet mental traps that can drag us down. They don’t announce themselves with flashing lights. They sneak in through our routines, our comparisons, our “shoulds.” And before long, they sap the joy right out of us.

This post kicks off a new mini-series: things to avoid if you want to protect your joy.

The first joy-sucker on our list?
Measuring your life by how it “should” be by now.


The Tyranny of the Timeline

Many of us were handed a script early on.

Go to school.
Get a job.
Meet someone nice.
Get married.
Buy a house.
Have kids.
Work hard.
Retire.
Enjoy your golden years.

It’s tidy, it’s predictable, and for some people, it works. But for many of us, life doesn’t follow that script. We graduate later, or not at all. We change jobs. We move. We fall in and out of love. We skip the house. We skip the kids. Or we find new dreams entirely.

And yet, that little voice in the back of our heads still whispers:
“You should have figured it out by now.”
“You should be married by 30.”
“You should have your dream job by 40.”

As if our lives are meant to unfold like clockwork, all hitting the same milestones at the same time.

And when we don’t? We call ourselves failures.

Not married by 30? Spinster. Might as well get a cat and a cardigan.
Didn’t make partner by 40? A has-been.
Still renting at 50? Must’ve done something wrong.

But let’s pause here. Whose voice is that, really? Society’s? Our parents’? Our own inner critic, parroting what we were taught?

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

The Myth of “Too Late”

The truth is, there’s no such thing as “too late.”

Colonel Sanders didn’t start Kentucky Fried Chicken until he was 62.
Julia Child didn’t write her first cookbook until she was 50.
Stan Lee didn’t create Spider-Man until his 40s.
Milton Hershey failed with multiple candy shops before founding Hershey’s Chocolate.
And sliced bread? It took over a decade to catch on as an idea people actually wanted.

Even Abraham Lincoln, that pillar of perseverance, lost job after job and election after election before becoming one of the greatest presidents in history.

If any of these people had believed the story that they’d “missed their window,” they would’ve stopped before success ever arrived.

And if that seems like ancient history, look around today. Some of the most interesting, creative, and fulfilled people I know are those who stopped trying to follow the timeline and started following their curiosity instead.

They’re going back to school at 45.
They’re switching careers at 50.
They’re learning to paint or surf or start a business long after the world says they should’ve “settled down.”


You’re Not Late. You’re Just on Your Path.

Julius Caesar once lamented, at age 32, that he hadn’t yet achieved what Alexander the Great had by the same age. At the time, Caesar was a minor administrator with little acclaim. He had no idea that his greatest accomplishments were still ahead of him.

We all have those moments, standing before the metaphorical statue of someone else’s success, feeling small by comparison.

But your path isn’t supposed to look like anyone else’s. You’re not on Alexander’s timeline, or your neighbor’s, or your sibling’s. You’re on yours.

Every detour, every pause, every “failure” teaches you something that smooth sailing never could.

Photo by Deva Darshan on Pexels.com

The Cost of “Should”

Spending time lamenting what hasn’t happened yet only keeps us stuck. It traps us in the past, in a cycle of comparison and self-judgment. We get so focused on the shoulds, what we should have done, where we should be, that we miss what’s right in front of us.

It’s like staring at the GPS instead of enjoying the drive. You’ll get to where you’re going, but you’ll have missed all the scenery along the way.

And let’s be honest: nobody builds a bucket list life by following someone else’s map.


Charting a Different Course

Here’s the thing: your “timeline” is just a story. You can rewrite it anytime you want.

Maybe your bucket list includes seeing the Northern Lights, writing a book, starting a garden, or falling in love again. None of those dreams come with an expiration date.

You don’t have to “make it big” to make your life meaningful. Sometimes the best things we build are small, moments of joy, quiet progress, and self-acceptance.

The most extraordinary lives often grow from the most ordinary days, repeated with care and curiosity.

Photo by Mike on Pexels.com

So Let’s Ditch the Clock

Stop measuring yourself by where you should be. Start asking where you want to be—and what small step you can take today to move in that direction.

Because life isn’t a race. It’s not a checklist. It’s a collection of moments that, if we’re lucky, we get to fill with wonder, growth, and connection.

You’re not behind. You’re becoming.

And that, dear reader, is exactly where you’re supposed to be.