Going Through the Notions(97)

I let myself be dragged over to the exhibit tents. As we walked toward the corner where the junior artwork was displayed, we passed the baking contest entries, with a mouthwatering selection of apple, peach, cherry, rhubarb, strawberry, and blackberry pies. The winner was a double-crust nectarine raspberry.

Claire’s painting was also adorned with the coveted blue ribbon.

“Congratulations.” I put my arm around her.

She beamed up at me. “And I won ten dollars!”

The painting showed a magnificent house out in the country, with horses grazing peacefully nearby, three apple trees in the orchard, and a dog running up to the front door.

“This is the house I want Mommy to buy for us someday.”

“It’s beautiful, Claire.” The house also looked like it cost the best part of a million dollars, but I didn’t point that out.

“The second place ribbon is red, third is yellow, and honorable mentions are white. You also get seven dollars for second place and five dollars for third,” she informed me. “Guess honorable mention means you only get the ribbon.” Claire wrinkled her nose.

“And the satisfaction of knowing you tried and you did your best.” The teacher in me couldn’t resist a life lesson whenever I could impart one.

“I know, Daisy,” she said, but I could tell she was glad she’d earned her first place ribbon.

After we had sufficiently admired her painting, we walked around hand in hand, and marveled at the gorgeous mixed flower arrangements and perfect specimens of strawberries, carrots, fresh eggs, and corn arranged on white paper plates.

I was especially interested in the needlework contest with the quilt wall hangings and exquisite embroidery. It was comforting to know that the ancient arts were still surviving, even in this digital age. I often thought that the reason knitting and crocheting were suddenly popular again was because they were a welcome escape for busy professionals from the constant buzz of instant communication.

Chickens and rabbits in cages that had been brought in that morning were being judged as we walked by. I waved to Ruth, who was accompanying the judges and taking notes.

As we came out of the tents, Cyril was driving around with trash and recycling containers on his truck, dropping them at strategic places, together with large drums of water for the animals. The petting zoo and pony ride with two docile-looking ponies were in place and waiting for youthful customers. I guessed that patch of grass on the auction grounds would be well fertilized by the time this was all over.

I brought Claire back to her mom, where the flea marketers were ready for action. On my way to the farm stand, I passed the band members setting up. Chris Paxson was helping them hook up the sound equipment.

“Dude, this is so early for us,” one of them moaned to Chris. “Actually I’m not sure if it’s like really early or really late.”

“I’ll get you some coffee,” I promised. Near the auction building, they were testing the microphone for announcements at the first aid booth. Inside, Betty was working full speed in the snack bar to keep up with the demand for caffeine from the vendors.

I came out with a paper tray holding six cups of steaming coffee. Even though it was well before 10 a.m., people were already arriving, some of them bringing their own lawn chairs, ready for a big day out. I could just about see Sarah at the entrance, and even from this distance, the confidence in her movements and her command over the situation were apparent.

I handed the coffee to a grateful band and hurried back to Debby at the farm stand. People were picking up produce and jams and handing over money.

Martha’s voice boomed over the sound system. “Good morning, everyone! I’d like to welcome you to the First Annual Sheepville Country Fair! As you know, proceeds from today’s activities will go towards a fund for the Kratz children. Enjoy yourselves today. Let the festivities commence!”

The whine of an electric guitar tuning up split the air.

I glanced over to where Reenie, eyes bright, stood with her kids, each clutching one of her hands.

I thought back to that first Sunday when I’d gone to visit her, and Reenie had insisted on giving me fresh eggs, even though she was so desperately poor. I’d sworn to myself that day that I’d find a way to help. My scalp tingled with the realization of how I’d made good on that promise. And then some, with the assistance of my amazing friends and neighbors.

The band roared into action, and soon there were kids dancing in the grass. Teenage girls hung out in front of the stage, giggling and making eyes at the lead singer.

Debby and I packaged up candles and birdhouses and stuffed cash into our shoe box as fast as we could go. As the day wore on, the tantalizing smell of barbecue wafted through the air, not to mention that of cinnamon rolls, spicy fries, funnel cake, and apple fritters.