postcards from the fair


Our little alarm clocks scampered down the hall at an unholy hour this morning, waking us before dawn by crawling into our bed and sticking their cold piggies on our skin. And to think I was worried we’d oversleep. I could see my breath as I stumbled down the hill to feed the chickens and let them out, my flip flops sliding a bit on the wet grass. Coffee, but not too much coffee, because today we were going to the fair!

We picked up my mom and were on the road only half an hour after our target departure time. We made good time, and though it was brisk, everyone was happy and comfortably attired in sweaters and knit hats. And that’s about where the day stopped going to plan. No, nothing dreadful happened. It was just a typical attempt at a day out with a 2-year-old and 4-year-old. Potty breaks. Demands for snacks. In the stroller, out of the stroller. Onto mama’s back in the pack, back down on the ground. More potty. More snacks. Those grand plans of doing? Abandoned, first unintentionally as we sought food for hungry bellies and  missed the talk I really wanted to attend, and then just totally written off.

I came home kind of cranky, but going through the photos just now, I can see all the fun we did have, even if it didn’t look quite like we had hoped. The girls slid down the big hill on cardboard boxes and leaped off of a huge hay bale into a soft pile. They got their faces painted, looked at all manner of critters, and patted the oxen team. Beanie got to see her beloved tractors and eat popcorn. We heard excellent music, and I even fangirled a little when I saw Amanda Soule and family at the Taproot booth (she is real!). We ran into some neighbors at the blacksmith shop and did a lot of people watching.

It was a good day with good people. My people.

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