The fair is one of those things that touches some deep place in me. It’s hard to describe, but all the animals, and people, and rides and lights and food. It reminds me of all the best things about humanity and it stirs in me an urge to go back to the land. It’s wholesome; all those quilts and sheep and horses. Rolling country side and people proud of something they raised with their own hands. I always come away wondering, “could I be a farmer?” “How can I get my kids involved in 4H, while living in the city?”
We go every fall to celebrate my oldest son’s birthday with my parents and sister. A funny tradition that’s become really special to all of us. The boys and I had also just finished reading Laura Ingalls Wilder’s “Farmer Boy” and I couldn’t help but see similarities to his fair and the 2014 version I was attending.
In the “Miracle of Birth” Barn, (which is kind of a creepy name) we saw lots of babies; piglets, and sheep and chicks and ducks. My youngest was yelling with the excitement of a five year old “Nanny look at this! Look at this!” as he watched a tiny bird come out of it’s shell. What a magic moment.
This year was the first time my oldest could ride, “big” rides and he was walking around with all the swagger an eight year old can muster. I got to feed the derpiest looking lama. Oh how I wanted to bring him home and write children’s books about him…Time well spent with people I hold dear.