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GREENSBORO -- The basil is back.

Indeed, the scent is thick in the air as Mike and Kari Baumann make their way up the jammed aisles at the Greensboro Farmers' Curb Market.

"We've been waiting for the basil," he says.

After the purchase, they make their way across the old building on Yanceyville Street.

In the market's summertime peak, that can take awhile.

But for regulars, that's OK. The idea isn't to get in and out as fast as possible.

It's not hot, but it's not exactly cool either, as the spinning ceiling fans compete with the heat generated by the crush of people below.

The room is filled with the sounds of a hundred conversations. From speakers emerges something that, obscured by all the chatter, sounds like bluegrass coming from the bottom of a swimming pool. On the wall are the dates of special upcoming weekends.

Berry day.

Tomato day.

Watermelon day.

The market is more than just a place to buy produce. This might be the only place in the city where hipsters with nose rings mingle with grizzled farmers sporting caps advertising tire stores. Throw in probably the biggest collection of older dudes with ponytails outside of an Allman Brothers' reunion tour, and you've got a colorful mashup of granola and John Deere.

For them, the market isn't just a place to shop; it's a social gathering. Like a cocktail party but with a cloth shopping bag instead of a little black dress.

Indeed, the Baumanns take only a few steps into the building before they bump into some friends. By the time they make their way to the other side, they've run into another couple.

Sometimes, it's a planned rendezvous, Mike Baumann says.

"Last night we had some ice cream with some friends, and we said, 'What time are you going to be at the farmers' market?' "

For kids, it's a mixed bag. On one hand, it carries an energy the florescent ambience of grocery stores can't match.

On the other, the ratio of leafy green vegetables to high-fructose corn syrup-infused goodies in multicolored packaging is disturbingly high, if not infinite.

For them, the only relief from the natural goodness is the market's twin vending machines, where sheepish fathers clutching kale in one hand fish for quarters to buy a Kit Kat with the other.

Shopping and socializing done, the Baumanns walk out. They'll be back next week.

You can set your clock by some of them, says Carol Pryor, who sells soap. Six o'clock in the morning, and there they are.

After a while, you get to know their habits, their preferences. And that's how they want it.

"The people here want to get to know you," Pryor says, "because it's like a family."

Contact Jason Hardin at 373-7021 or at jason.hardin@news-record.com.