Monday, August 6, 2018

Kissed By a Cow

When I was a kid we never went to the fair.  I think the first time I went was well after college.  Mom was working for the local Soil and Water Conservation District and had to man their booth at the fair for a couple of shifts.  She gave me one of her "comp" tickets and I met her for dinner one evening after work.  I remember her drinking birch beer and me having some of the best onions rings ever.  We went to see the draft horses, but had to leave the barn because the smell of ammonia was so bad we were getting dizzy.

Fast forward a couple of decades and a different county.  Tim and I went to our fair last year for the first time.  We enjoyed it so much that this year I took a day off from work and we spent a good while just wandering the grounds and seeing what was there to see.  And, there was a lot to see.

Animals were definitely the best part. I don't remember ever seeing so many rabbits in one place. One cow seemed to like me, a lot.  She gave me lots of "kiss licks" as my niece would call them.  There wasn't anything dainty about it, unless getting kissed by 100 grit sandpaper counts. 

I've decided that I like goats much better than sheep.  Goats are cute and curious; the sheep were whiners, bleating loudly, just because.  When one of the sheep decided it didn't want to go to the ring for its showing, it took off running.  Through several barns it went, until it was cornered by nearly a dozen people and a movable fence.

The arts and crafts were okay.  As I wandered through both the photography and quilt exhibits, I kept thinking I could do better than that.  But, the exhibitors did one thing I didn't do.  They entered.  Maybe next year.

Who knew that there was a competition for alfalfa? And the choices in Fair food are almost endless, but once again we had Philly steak sandwiches.  Some things are just tradition.   Like watching poised young ladies, and one young man, make their big beastly horses dance in the ring.

We'll definitely be back next year!


No comments:

Post a Comment