02 Dec 2025 5 min read

1. First of the season.

This wasn’t meant to be my first post.

I had other plans you see. Not just for here, this site, but also for where I might publish this little yarn. I had definite plans. I had it all worked out.

As you can imagine God pissed herself at such certainty.

Since change is what ‘the full catastrophe’ promises, a last minute swerve not only seems in order, but the perfect way to show you what to expect if you subscribe. Or what not to expect, as the case maybe.

Like Saturday at Black Barn.

It was early doors when I arrived, and the setup was in full swing. Spring was being loaded into steps.

There was a strong smell drifting through the first market of the season - sweet, not unpleasant at all, just hard to place.

After last year’s hiatus and the perfect Heretaunga weather it felt good to be back. Good to be getting on with it. Lucky too, in many ways. Bill’s done the playlist as per. We’re listening to Lambchop in case you were wondering. It strikes me as a funny choice for a vegetarian, but that’s Bill for you. There’s always a few of his tracks that you’ll want to Shazam.

Bill’s been moved to manning the strawberries this year. It's a promotion from last time when he was on other duties. They’re not just any strawberries either. Scotts. The local icon. So much so that a customer arrived at the stand, and without introductions, fanfare or even context, proudly announced that ‘the rugby boys had a good trip.’

Huh?

If their trip’s success was news to Bill as it was to me, he didn’t show it.

‘That’s good’ said Bill in his non-committal way. I just shrugged, which was probably a bit too noncommittal for the customer who handed out a few more meagre clues.

“Lindisfarne? The rugby trip? The boys had a good one” she added enthusiastically.

I wanted to phone a friend. Another shrug from me and the whole story came out. Apparently one of the Scott boys was on the rugby trip, and given Bill was manning the Scott stand, it was reasonable to assume he knew a bit more about it than he was letting on. He didn’t.

Still, well done boys. Result.

Right next to the strawberry stand, the Ya bon team are cranking through the sourdough and the donuts. Baking started at 1am this morning. They’ll run out before the market shuts. Twice.

Frayne had done her usual, everyone was at their station and the trains were all running very much on time. It’s taken months and months to get here. Not only are the stalls full of the bay’s finest produce, but ideas are plentiful too.

It’s an encouraging sign. Ideas are often the first casualty when things go quiet.

Evie and Harrison have a good one. Their cherry stall is a fresh take on the lemonade stand - reimagined for the drop-shipping generation.

They don’t grow the cherries, but, in a clever twist on Amazon's affiliate scheme, have got Mum to invest in ten kilos so they can resell them. They’ve split up the business functions, with Evie hand drawing the packaging and Harrison doing a spread sheet on the breakeven. They take turns weighing the fruit and serving it.

The market hasn’t even been open an hour, and they’re a few kilos down, already swaggering with that heady founder-startup energy. Harrison has run some numbers and is already in talks with the major shareholder - mum - about selling the business. Or doubling the stock order. Or both.

They really do grow up so fast.

It’s not silly though. As Hilton always said, never be afraid to take your profit early.

Over at the pet café, it’s need before ambition for Jacob. He’s selling paw balls, single serve pet food with no preservatives that you can buy online. The cafe idea, which they only came up with two days ago, is a clever sample stand.

It’s not just a good idea, but an idea for good, with money from every paw ball going to the Waimarama surf club where Jacob is a surf lifesaver. If it all pans out, the club will get some new gear out of it, and the business will fund Jacob’s uni adventures next year.

You quickly get the idea that this would be most welcome news to Justin, Jacob’s dad and meat guy, who is helping out. But it’s Jacob’s story, and he tells it well. If the engineering degree is going to be fully funded by pet food they’ll have to sell about 35,000 individual serves.

Jacob’s already doing the math in his head. “That’s about a tonne” he says.

“Yeah, so it’s doable” replies Justin.

“Nothing’s impossible, right?” Says Jacob, this time to no-one in particular.

And there it is again, that smell. It’s easily recognisable now. Summery and sticky. Not donuts. Not strawberries.

It’s hope.

Such a strong and undeniable scent, wafting through the Black Barn markets on the last Saturday of spring.

When everything felt doable again.