(I don’t care about the pun. I have no shame.)
There’s a Grange down the road from us, across the street from our church. It’s one of a couple Granges around here, and when we first moved to Connecticut, they mystified us. There were none in the town I grew up in, and I never knew anyone to be associated with them in later years.
But the Simsbury Grange is a pretty active group, and when the neighbor boy came over and told Lotus that there was going to be a fair, featuring a cooking contest, she was hooked.
Lotus made her grandmother’s Oreo Truffle recipe, and Gabriel and Joaquin each entered a creation in the Lego competition.
We dropped everything off verrrry early Saturday morning, went to run a million errands, and stopped back at the fair several hours later, thinking that we’d run inside, grab the Legos, see if there were any truffles left, and head home.
And that’s when the Grange sucked us in to its fair goodness.
Lotus would up winning first place in the kid’s cookie division. She got a blue ribbon and five dollars in prize money. She waved the ribbon around like a spaz, and promptly spent the prize money on tickets for the fair games (well played, Simsbury Grange, well played).
Gabriel got third prize for his Lego creation (some sort of…object….?) and he was perplexed by the whole process.
Joaquin came in fourth, which, although was not accompanied by a ribbon, he kept himself together and didn’t burst into tears in the middle of the Grange meeting hall. He was soothed by the creation of potato people, bankrolled with Lotus’ winnings.
There was that staple of Simsbury entertainment- a hayride through Tulmeadow and the Flamig Farm woodlot (currently being readied for the October Haunted Hayride, so there were Styrofoam skeletons and bloodied, severed hands scattered here and there in the woods), music, a beekeeper, and a magic show.
You know, I’m often ambivalent about New England, but I have to say, they really know how to do the late summer/early fall fair thing up right.