The Crankee Yankee and I went to the Deerfield Fair yesterday; the last day it was open. As usual, we set off early, got a good parking spot, and then hoofed it all over the fair grounds. Of course we had to stop and admire all the John Deere stuff (the Crankee Yankee’s a huge fan) first.
We went in the tents to see sheep, cows, goats, beautiful garden produce, handmade quilts, photography, cakes and pies. We went through all the concession stands, crafts, jewelry, baked goods, cheeses, sausages, salsas, homemade jerky, kettle corn, fudge, pickles, and much more.
Of course, there was the “huge pumpkin” competition. There were about seven enormous pumpkins, some so large that they looked like giant orange-y tumors, ready to burst and shower us all with huge pumpkins seeds and pumpkin gore.
And the fair food—! Thank Heaven there are not fairs every day. Between us, we ate a corn dog slathered in *CYM, split a delicious steak and cheese sub, mac and cheese, and hot apple crisp topped with a drippy gob of vanilla ice cream. We also took home some smoked cheddar cheese, garlic sausage, a couple of raspberry turnovers, molasses cookies, peanut butter cookies, and some fudge.
And then, the bagpipes began to play and the drums began to roll. The New Hampshire Police Pipes and Drums marched through the fair, and we followed. There is just something about the bagpipes playing that lights up our hearts. There is no middle ground with them, either. People either love them or hate them. The Crankee Yankee and I adore them.
Even when they played a medley of patriotic tunes like “You’re A Grand Old Flag,” “Yankee Doodle Dandy,” and so on, there is that undertone of minor notes that give it a bit of sadness. The music vibrates or irritates; people either love or hate the sound. But we thoroughly enjoyed the music. I noticed a little girl in her stroller nearby; she was grinning from ear to ear and waving her little hands in time with the music. Sometimes it starts that young; that captivating sound and rhythm just pulls you in.
On our way home, around 1:45pm, we saw what seemed an endless line of traffic going to get to the fair. Now look, it’s easy for us to get there early; we don’t have little kids or part-time jobs or anything else to hold us up. We felt a bit sorry for the long, crawling line of cars inching along to get to the fair…
But not sorry enough for us to want to holler out of the windows; “GO BACK TO YOUR HOMES! We broke all the rides, ate all the food, and let the livestock run loose! There is nothing to see! GO HOME!” Then we laughed our over-stimulated, over-sugared heads off.
This is what happens when we go to a fair; any fair. We turn into unruly old children, let loose in all the noise, smells and sounds, the seduction of forbidden foods, temptations in every booth and the sheer giddyness of spending a carefree day together.
*Cheap Yellow Mustard