Going to the Fair

After some more fixes around the house by the plumber, we've settled into debt, er, I mean our new water-cushy environs nicely.  The girl suggested county fair therapy, so sometime this week we'll go look at cows and goats and chickens and geese and ducks and turkeys and sheep and horses and beefalo and pigs and llamas and alpacas and bunnies and guinea pigs and bees and booths and displays and contests and art and photography and plants and crafts and farm equipment and rodeo stuff and listen to music and generally have a good time.  

Going to the fair was never a thing we did when I was a kid.  I think I visited one fair briefly with a friend who went to see another friend who was showing goats.  Nowadays it wouldn't feel like summer without going to at least one fair.  I'm not sure why.  Maybe it's a gawking thing.  Maybe I enjoy discovering what the kids are interested in.  Maybe it's seeing what other farm people are up to, though obviously not everyone who participates is into farming.  Probably it's all of the above and more.

County fairs are pretty complicated places.  The layers of people who attend and why and the history and traditions--it's an intense confluence.  If I could get that kind of complexity in my books and still maintain that sense of unity--the fair--that would really be something.