It is Saturday night and we here in Rhode Island are hunkering down for a couple (thousand) bathtubs full of hurricane-generated rain.
I have faith that our 150 year old house will fare fairly and go forth to serve for 15o more. I don’t often think of it as being so old nor do I think much about who lived here before our landlord moved in with his young family. Sometimes, however, I like to think that there is treasure hidden beneath a loose floorboard. In my daily life, that is the extent of my interaction with our house’s historical presence. But on hot and still days such as today, it does suddenly start to smell much like An Old House- the kind that you tour or study. Not the kind that you return to with a backpack of emergency hurricane provisions. In this case, emergency hurricane provisions have included a case of water, a case of seltzer, multiple chocolate bars, fancy pastries, fancy chocolates, garden tomatoes and basil for pasta sauce making, fancy bread, 3 lbs of clementines, many boxes of high quality chicken fingers, some produce, a new julienning peeler, a bottle of Belgian beer, 3 bottles of wine from various regions, and all the goods to make A LOT of s’mores. I hope we’ll be okay.
But! Last Saturday, when it was dry and felt like we were in the final stretch and yawn of the summer season, Jess and I took a day trip to the Washington County Fair. We saw tractor pulls and huge pigs. We stood in the shadow of the Zipper, turning green at just the thought of getting on board the perennial carnival ride. We harshly judged barn after barn of children’s 4-H handicraft and ate more than two things that were made from corn and/or fried. I bought a DILLIGAF biker pin and some local honey. Jess almost bought a paperweight with a scorpion in it.
Appropriate calliope sounds, everywhere you go, thanks to the newest technology.
Not quite sure what standards this okra was held up to.
So small, you couldn’t even see it.
In this spirit, I spent the time when I maybe should have been taking in the lawn furniture and battening the hatches instead, jacked on coffee and sugar, sitting in front of Etsy, searching for 4-H medals and memorabilia.
Like this fine cap:
Which can be worn with a uniform from any of these 3 decades:
And safely protected from the elements by this delightfully explicit jacket:
As you plant an award-winning crop of heritage vegetables:
Or train your dog to retrieve a beer from the fridge:
Go ahead. Give yourself an award. But be modest:
