Because it wouldn’t be a fair without some chickens.
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There were quite a few prize winning divas strutting their stuff.
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But this all black rooster took the prize for bizarre.
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The next blue ribbon winner?
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Must have won for bad hair day.
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How do these Polish even see?
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There were fancy pigeons, but to be honest these made me sad.
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They’ve clearly been bred for over exaggerated foot feathers and the poor things could hardly walk.
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But the peacocks were lovely.
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And this duck who decided no one could drink because he wanted a bath was funny.
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We ended with a very curious goose who followed me all around the enclosure. I believe he was for sale and wanted to come home with us… but alas, my husband refused.
Because if we didn’t have bad timing we wouldn’t have any at all , the last day our contractor was working on the ceiling project found us out of town… which meant we didn’t see the finished product until the next day. And while I’m pleased to have our living room back to normal without a plastic room in the middle of it…
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I’m not entirely pleased with the end result.
Yes, the section of ceiling that used to look like this….
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Certainly looks much better like this.
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And the beam that used to look like this..
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Is much smoother now.
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And while it’s wonderful not to see the sag in the middle of the room and worry that the roof could fall on our heads at any moment…
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There are two issues I’m not willing to accept.
While it’s true I knew the replacement popcorn wouldn’t exactly match the existing, I wasn’t expecting such a glaring line of demarcation.
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It’s very noticeable in spots and that just won’t do.
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The other issue is stain resolution. Years of slow roof leaks left us with random brown spots on one end and though our guy hit them with some sort of Kilz product and turned them white again…
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It’s a noticeably different white and drives me crazy every time I look up.
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Since our contractor is due to return in two weeks to install new windows and a door in our bedroom, a plan will be hatched to deal with the problems. He knew I wasn’t happy and because he’s probably going to be the one to lay our new flooring in the living room he suggested we wait until then and repaint the whole ceiling. That’s probably what should have been done in the first place but we both thought we could get away with not doing it. Which is what you get for thinking. Trying to save time and money with home repairs is fruitless and rarely works.
Is the beam solid and more structurally secure? Yes.
When we visit a fair, my husband is always drawn to the museums of old tools. Partly because they’re interesting, but mostly because he’s old enough to remember using some of them.
He loves checking out the antique tractors but this particular brand was new even to him.
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Cockshutt?
A more colorful name than John Deere that’s for sure.
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No matter how many times I tell him or how many warning signs he reads… he’s always touching things when he’s not supposed to. If he did this with women instead of old farm implements.. we’d have a problem.
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I always wonder where they find these fabulous wagons and carriages. Some of them are in amazingly good shape.
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Ouch!
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Clearly this museum has a sense of humor.
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A library and one room schoolhouse from the early 1800’s.
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The rig in the front of this picture is an early snow press. There were no plows to clear the roads back in the day, they just tried to flatten it as best they could.
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My husband’s father used one of these on their farm. Any guesses what it is?
Maine has a lot of agricultural fairs every autumn and over the years we’ve visited quite a few. Farmington was one we’d never hit so last week we drove west.
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This county’s fair is relatively small and focuses heavily on community involvement. Prize winning pumpkins and homemade jams were in the forefront.
As were school children’s projects.
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You have to admit this one made a valid point.
There was an entire upper floor devoted to quilt, knitting, photography and art contests. There was also a large sign stating fair volunteers did not judge or pick the winners. I though that was odd until I saw some of the winners…
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I wouldn’t want to be blamed for that either.
As we stepped out of the expo building, food.
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I was disappointed not to order a fresh lemonade from the giant lemon concession stand, but alas it was closed.
I did score my favorite go to the fair treat though.
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Fried dough with cinnamon and powdered sugar. You only eat these things at the fair and you really can’t explain why… but damn. It was good.
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Inexplicably there were multiple fried pickle stands, all boasting to be the biggest and most famous. Bypassing those we wandered around until we found something that wasn’t battered and deep fried and settled on a picnic table with our wraps to enjoy the show.
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Not being twang loving blue grass fans, we ate our lunch and left our seats to those more in tune with the genre.
The author wrote a poem from a template and after reading hers I knew I had to do the same. To honor my parents. To relive my idyllic childhood. To reflect on the varied ancestors who had come before.
It was a bittersweet journey of remembrance and I’d love for you to do the same.
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Where I’m from.
I am from the well worn but oh so comfortable reading chair in the library.
From Stewarts Root Beer floats and Fralingers salt water taffy.
I am from brick walls and polished slate floors. The solid, firm foundation that wrapped me in a warm embrace.
I am from the central rose garden. Fragrantly scenting the air… delicate, yet able to survive the storms.
I’m from magical Christmas Eves in NYC. From never losing your temper and treating everyone with respect.
From Lovey and Lottie Mae.
I’m from a stiff upper lip and a dry sense of humor.
From don’t take any wooden nickels to follow your dreams.
I’m from quiet personal faith, the kind that doesn’t need a church to know right from wrong.
I’m from a serene English garden transplanted to the middle of suburbia, from bangers and mash to boeuf bourguignon.
From painful separation on Ellis Island. From family betrayal and loss of legacy. From the sacrifice required to hold a family together. From the triumph of perseverance, hard work and above all… love.
I’m from the wall of framed pictures that line our hall… and from that beautifully bound and gold monogrammed navy leather photo album, brittle with age but continuing to hold us together.
The faces and places. The history of a lineage whose many parts came together to form…. me.
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Here’s a link to the template if you’d like to try your hand at poetry.
As I sit here typing this post, a hurricane is blowing its way past us outside. Thankfully the worst of it will be felt to our north… and though we already have tree branches down and will probably lose power later this afternoon, I’m not too worried. Maine rarely sees hurricanes so people were panicking and buying every battery and bottle of water they could find, but we lived in coastal North Carolina for 17 years. That was the time to worry.
Last evening after putting away the porch and deck furniture, bringing bird feeders and hanging flower baskets inside and tying down the grill cover … we did what one does on the eve of a hurricane.
We went for ice cream.
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Cones in hand, we enjoyed the glorious show Mother Nature was putting on in the sky.
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These are untouched photos from my phone. It really was that fabulous.
River's world..... 