Page 41 of SEAL'S Baby Surprise
“Then you’re in for a treat,” I say. “According to the handbills, they do it at least once a year, sometimes more often. There will be rides, plus displays of specialty foods along with samples of just about everything. On top of that, there will be art of all kinds, and even a couple of fashion shows.”
“That sounds splendid!” Lee says.
“Will there be horses?” Julia asks.
“I don’t know,” I say. “We’ll have to go see.”
We leave Ark in Pops’ care — or Pops in Ark’s care, depending on how you look at it — and set off for the fair. Ark has gotten pretty good about not barking, but I’m not sure how he would behave in a crowd, especially when other animals would be involved.
The usual farmer’s market has been on the square in the village. But with all the carnival attractions, it is way too big, so it is being held in the baseball field out beyond the village, beside the road that goes into the city and up toward the mountain area where the grape vineyards and orchards are located.
The first things we see as we walk out from the village and into the fairgrounds are the stalls of fresh fruit and vegetables lined up like old-time English market stalls. Lee gets excited when she sees all that fresh stuff, but I tell her let’s buy stuff on the way home. We don’t want to carry things while we look.
Next up is a row of artists — painted canvas, decorated milk cartons, welded scrap metal…you name it, there is an art piece there somewhere representing a style or era.
We spend a lot of time going through all the art; then we wander into an area with the street food vendors just in time for lunch.
We have turkey legs, cream cheese and walnut sandwiches, funnel cakes topped with peach preserves and ice cream, washed down with some of the best root beer ever. I’d forgotten just how good street vendor food can be if you don’t have to eat it every day.
I watch as Julia explores biting into a turkey leg. “Now I’m like that guy in the painting,” she says. “I’ve got a great big, drumstick!” She waves the bone around to show it off.
Lee dodges the waving turkey leg, then giggles as Julia bites into it.
Meanwhile, she savors her cream cheese and walnut sandwich. “This is so good,” she says. “I never dreamed that vegan could taste this good. How do they make the cream cheese?”
“It’s from cashew butter,” a passing waiter says. “Did you notice the tree nut warning on the menu? And on the door outside? Most people who have allergies are alert to those things, but sometimes they miss them.”
“I didn’t,” Lee says, “but I don’t have any allergies. Do you, Austin or Julia?”
I shake my head no. I’d gotten off lucky in that department. Julia can be picky, but she doesn’t have any food allergies.
Since we are now in the prepared food area, we walk through the displays of pie, cake, cookies and preserves that have been brought in for contests.
The girls ooh and ah over lavishly decorated wedding cakes, birthday cakes, and just-for-fun cartoon cakes. I make a mental note to add “cake” to the next shopping list. I’d been getting mixes, but I certainly am not an artist with frosting.
Then we walk on through to an area where just about everything seems to be draped in fabric — quilts, dresses, scarves, and more. It seems likely that we might get stuck there, so I promise Lee and Julia they can shop on the way back.
Fortunately, I see a sign for “petting zoo” and that gets them moving again.
Julia squeals with delight when she realizes that in addition to the baby pigs, goats, and fuzzy chicks in the petting zoo, there was a whole row of horses.
“Look, Daddy, look!” she exclaims. “Can we ride them? Can we take one home?”
“I don’t think they are for sale,” I say. “They are here for contests and for the show.”
“Show?” Julia’s eyes sparkle. “Can we see?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Let’s look at the schedule.
We have missed most of the parade of horses who trotted, walked, marched, or danced around the arena, but we were in time to see children riding on fat ponies.
“Oh, I want one so much!” Julia exclaims. There is bright color in her cheeks, and I think about maybe building a gypsy cart that can be pulled by horses, but only for a minute, because I know absolutely nothing about horses other than the kind that come in internal combustion engines.
“I’ll think about it,” I say.
Julia has already figured out that bit of adult talk, so she gives me a sideways stink-eye glance, then moves on to where Lee is petting a cow. It proves to be the perfect distraction.
The cow is a dainty jersey heifer with wide, brown eyes, a pretty, dish-shaped face, and perfect horns. She closes her eyes and juts out her chin for scratchings, which Lee is happy to give her.
