One of my favourite family traditions is going to the Rockton World’s Fair on Thanksgiving weekend.  I’m not really sure why it’s called a ‘World’s’ fair seeing as it is held in a village of about 200 residents.  But by fair standards, it’s a good size, certainly much bigger than the one in our own city which has a population at least 500 times larger.

I think it’s so popular because it’s a truly agricultural fall fair.  It’s charm lies in the ancient white buildings and tents that surround the requisite rides, games and greasy food stalls.  Walking through the poultry barn I am not only amazed at the variety of ducks, geese and chickens but truly taken aback by the size of turkeys before they are plucked and shrink-wrapped.  

The sheer number of sheep, goats and cattle that parade up and down in front of judges for ribbons gives me some small comfort that family farms are not completely obsolete.  And the row upon row of showcases that display everything from gourds that look like faces to fancy tarts to homemade sweaters

reassure me that those talents aren’t yet extinct.  In fact, judging by the number of entries this year, they might even be gaining ground.

When we finally head home, stuffed and uncomfortable from an overindulgence of funnel cakes, fried onion flowers and corn on the cob, we swear we will lay off the fatty foods.  Until next year.