For the first time in my homeschool mom life, I do not have that back to school feeling. Last year I hoped it would be gone, with Emily off to college and all, but it was still present. This year – so far at least – I’m not feeling it and it’s been glorious. It’s not that I dislike the back to school feeling, I’m just ready for something new, ready to be anchored by a rhythm other than the idea of school. This is the first August since I can remember that I don’t feel like organizing anything, starting a new project, implementing an improved system of some kind, or purchasing “office” supplies. Instead, I am immersed in the height of gardening season, harvesting and processing food nearly every day. There is a watchful eye toward the wild landscape, gathering late-summer milkweed pods, waiting for chokecherries and blackberries to ripen, and wondering if this is the year I’ll finally do something with the fruit of our enormous crabapple tree.
There hasn’t been much time in front of the computer lately, it’s just the nature of our family life right now. This means my summer edition of Country Kitchen has been a little slower than I’d like, but it’s nearly together and will be released next Monday. The entire class will be ready at that time so there will be no registration period, you can jump right in! Let’s call it: Country Kitchen :: {Late} Summer Session, 2017. All of the details will be posted here on Monday. Looking forward to it!
So here I am, not feeling the school calendar, loving the final stretch of summer. Before I know it, fair season will be here and with that, late night sounds of doodlebug races from the fairgrounds across town, wafting through our bedroom window just as they did when I was a little girl. I’ll remember strawberry milk from The Ellis Farm, burgers from The American Legion, and my favorite, the fruit cup served with a two-pronged wooden fork from a lady unaffiliated with any organization as far as I remember, but she was always there. I ate so many of those fruit cups as a kid. Our town fair is one of the biggest (the biggest?) in our state, so as these things go, it’s gotten fairly commercial in recent years and my interest in attending is not the same, but it was a fun tradition to grow up with. Being proper local kids, we saved our allowance throughout the year and attended the fair all four days, always working one booth or another for an afternoon or two, and ruling the midway (or so we thought) with ride tickets supplied by my grandfather.
There’s always a headliner country band on Sunday afternoons, free with the price of admission. As fair concerts go, it’s usually a band either past its prime, or one yet to be known. These things are booked about a year in advance and a few years back a never-heard-of-band called Florida Georgia Line was hired for the upcoming season. Over the course of being booked and the fair actually taking place, that band went and made a big name for themselves and our town with a population of 10,000 suddenly saw crowds and traffic that rivaled Woodstock. We were driving in the opposite direction that day, heading out of town, and the road to the fairgrounds was an absolute parking lot, several miles long. I don’t know if I’ve heard anything by Florida Georgia Line, but I hope their fans got a good show that day.
These days, not into blossoming onions, jumbo smoked turkey legs, or one more “As Seen On TV” booth, I’m content with late night sounds of the fair through my bedroom window, and the comforting memories of what was. Now if only the sound of those doodlebugs could somehow carry the sweet-savory scent of old school fried dough mingled with that of the animal barns. I’d like that very much.
(These photos are from The Brooklyn Fair, a little more my size and speed. I love fair photos!)