Is it fair that all fall fairs fall in the fall?
That queer quirk of a query struck me as I was trying to do the mathematical equation of how many carrying cages I would need to transport 30 bantams and two pekin ducks, my multiple-sized avian showpieces, to said show at neighbouring Chatsworth.
Well, duh, to that thought; who could have thunk it? Fall is fall and spring is spring with winter and summer squeezed in between. What more could you want? I think what stirred the up-rise in mind was the fact that so many fall fairs fall on the same weekend.
The Little Lady and I used to attend as many of them as we could, usually not less than five, but quite often we found it necessary to skip on alternate years in order to visit as widespread as we could. There seemed never to be enough time to get to all that we wished.
By the way, while my mind is still wandering, whatever happened to the Farm Forums, where farmers gathered to discuss local problems?
Or the Garden Parties where community people gathered to sit their butts on rows of freshly bailed hay to enjoy the whatever of nearby entertainers, staged on a flatbed truck that was lighted with a whimsy string of lights? And, too, the monthly dances at the local one- roomed schoolhouse, where the square dance caller was one of your neighbours?
Well, duh, to that, too. Community gatherings slumped out the door when everything bigger came barging in. But is bigger better? My doubts strongly focus on facts saying nope, no way, and no again. It was a part of life that made life worth living.
The township entertainment chose to go county, and counties went into a mixed porridge of amalgamations. Local schools have closed, and kids often have a tired hour added to each end of their school day by being dragged to and fro by a big, yellow, flashing light school bus to a school so big they can’t find their way around in it. Is this a big that is better?
I could add another duh to that, but then you’ll think I have an impending stutter. But modern computer technology takes care of that each time I doze off with my hand on the keyboard. “DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDuh.” Sorry.
Now back to my immediate needs. Thirty-two birdies equal how many boxes? Now that brings up another coincidence. I got the bulk of my education mostly out behind, but some within, a little one-roomed red brick rural route Eramosa schoolhouse where the single teacher taught all eight grades to students that peaked in number at 32 – the same number of avian creatures that I was in need of boxes for.
Now I’ll make my teacher proud, I’ll bet ya, ‘cause I’m going to do this without a calculator or taking my shoes off. Let’s see, 16 boxes with a divider in each should just about do it. What do you think? I’ll probably come home dead tired and worn out, having missed my usual afternoon snooze.
But the chances of me clutching half the count in red, blue, and white ribbons looks well within the making. Wish me luck.
Take care, ‘cause we care.
barrie@barriehopkins.ca
519-986-4105