Going to the county fair appeals to my inner child. It also suits my 6-year-old child in her pink cowgirl boots.
Perhaps it's the pungent sawdust or sickening-sweet cotton candy, but the sights and smells of a county fair bring back idealized memories. All it takes is one pass by the 4-H horse stalls and I'm 11 years old again, wearing Husky boys size Toughskins and borrowed cowboy boots.
Last week, our daughter spent three days with her Nana and Papa. The hometown county fair was in full swing judging by the nightly update phone calls. Nana and granddaughter visited every single sheep, chicken, cow and Elephant Ear concession stand. However, the summary of events revolved around two things: midway rides and cow flatulence.
Not to sound impolite, but going to the fair stinks; as in an olfactory overload for any child -- and many supposed grown-ups. It seems everywhere you turn there are the sights of animal bodily functions and sounds of said bodily functions. Although it's certain fair smells that lead curious children by the nose. I'm sure Nana had to tread lightly on a few subject matters -- and check the soles of her shoes.
Such will be the case this week as we visit the grounds of the Northwestern Michigan Fair. Even after investigating each and every livestock barn, the end result of digestion will remain an intriguing concept. Sure a fuzzy bunny or a runty pig might prove a temporary distraction, but cute and cuddly can't compete with bovine emissions.
Now I, too, savored fair smells; although I prefer sawdust and saddle soap.
Just a whiff of neat's-foot oil conjures up cowboy hat 4-H days in the county fair horse arena. Unfortunately, an untimely dismount during Western Pleasure competition sums up my riding career.
Part of the problem, aside from a loose saddle strap, was my love-hate relationship with Lucy. She loved to hate me; or at least it felt that way when she bucked me off. While she was a petite pony, reigning in Lucy was no easy task. She had a mean streak beneath her beautiful black spotted markings. Lucy could smell fear and I reeked of it.
While at times the epitome of evil, Lucy was an absolute angel in halter class. A few months ago, while cleaning out the basement, I came across a shoebox full of ribbons earned by this persistent pony. Something about a show ring made Lucy square up her stance for the judges. For my part, all I had to do was hang on to the lead rope and smile.
Thankfully, our daughter seems content with her My Little Pony collection. So far we have avoided my little pony discussions that require riding lessons and barn boarding fees.
Some time this week, I'll let my inner child go with my ponytail child to take in the local county fair sights and sounds. As for smells, they have a way of attaching to memories and pink cowgirl boots.
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