By Caleb Allison
Some weekends just feel different, like there’s a reason not to sleep in Saturday. Not because of one huge event, but because of how everything comes together; the sounds, the smells, the people. This past weekend in downtown Forsyth was one of those.
Two days. Two completely different vibes. But both rooted in the same thing: community showing up for community.
Friday kicked off with the all-day Main Street Market, and honestly, it felt like a little slice of who Forsyth really is, or at least the one I remember from when I was a kid.
This wasn’t a polished pop-up curated for Instagram; it was local.Tables were set up by sunrise, and by mid-morning, the lot next to City Hall was buzzing with stories, samples, and Southern resilience.
At one booth, I ran into Hope and Seth Styons with Sehosas Sweets. Their relatively new invention of freeze-dried candy, the kind that crunches like space food and melts like nostalgia, piqued my interest.
“We’ve been doing this for about a year and a half,” Hope told me. “It’s popular with kids due to social media, but the adults are finally coming around. We’re usually the only ones doing it at these events though.”
Just a few tents down? Robert Willis, a familiar Forsythian face as he’s been farming around here for decades.
“We’ve got a good crop this year,” he said with a proud smile. “All homegrown. Real variety this year.” Sure enough, the free slice of watermelon he gave me to prove it felt like summer of 2005.
Further down the row, Blueroo was holding it down, who we last saw at the Forsythia Festival.
“Everything’s been good since Forsythia,” they said. “We did the Strawberry Festival, Foodie Festival, we’ve been busy.” But not without setbacks. “We lost a tent and some tumblers at one point,” they added. Still, there they were, smiling, selling, rebuilding. That’s grit you can’t teach.
Bonnie’s Creations was one of my favorite setups. No glitz, no gimmicks, just honest, tactile goods that feel like they were made by someone who cares.
“This is the kind of stuff your grandma would’ve given you,” Bonnie told me. Kitchen towels, little tools, sewn creations that feel like memory in fabric form. “We’re not in a store. This is where we want to be; back to the roots.” They even had a little knitted half sphered shaped device to put your freshly microwaved bowl into so it didn’t burn you.
Backyard Gardens was posted up too, and if you know Forsyth, you know their jam is legendary.
“This is our seventh year,” they told me. “We’re so thankful for the consistent support.” They had the
classics, strawberry fig, habanero apricot, but this year… “We’re trying something new: strawberry kiwi.” they said.
I personally went for the jalapeno relish and sunset jam, both of which were incredible. The relish was good enough to eat straight out of the jar.
Friday felt like the heartbeat of Forsyth; slow, steady, soulful. But Saturday night? Saturday brought the pulse.
By sunset, the square had flipped into a different frequency. The Main Street Concert Series returned with Purple Madness, and they didn’t come to play, they came to channel Prince himself. From the moment the band hit the stage, it was like we stepped into another dimension.
“Let’s Go Crazy,” “Purple Rain,” “1999”; all the hits rolled out, and the crowd felt them. It was the kind of night where everyone from teenagers to grandparents were moving together. Some danced barefoot in the grass in the middle of the square. Others leaned into each other, drinks in hand, soaking up the nostalgia.
The VIP section added a little extra sparkle; tables for eight, wristbands that scored you discounts at downtown restaurants and food trucks, and the perfect view of the stage. The best seats in the house weren’t even chairs though; they were picnic blankets laid out under the stars.
And that’s what made the night beautiful. It wasn’t just a concert. It was a community-wide exhale. A moment where nobody was rushing. Nobody was on their phone. Just people, present, together.
You could feel the contrast between the two days. And yet, they worked together like harmony.
Friday was warm smiles, homegrown goods, and the smell of fresh herbs and fryer oil. Saturday was sound, sweat, and voices singing together in the dark. But both? Both were real. Both were Forsyth at its best.
That’s what I kept coming back to as I walked around. How lucky are we to live in a place that still knows itself? We’re not trying to be some polished version of a city we’re not. We’re just doing what we do, and doing it with love. That shows up in a jar of jelly, a hand-sewn towel, or a perfectly timed guitar solo during “Purple Rain.”
If you missed this weekend? I’ll say this; you missed something more than a concert or a market. You missed the feeling of what this town is built on. You missed watching a vendor remember your name, or seeing a stranger dance like nobody was watching. You missed roots. Rhythm. And a reminder that small towns still have something big to say.
But don’t worry; this was just the beginning.
The Main Street Concert Series will be back on June 7, July 5, August 2, and October 4th.
What about the the market?
It’s not going anywhere. Neither are the people. They’ll be there every Friday until October 31st. So pull up. Walk the square. Talk to someone new. Dance if it feels right. Eat something you’ve never tried before. Because Forsyth isn’t just where we live. It’s where we come alive.
