A FAIR DAY

My town has a fair day.  Well, it's like a fair -- Main Street is shut off to traffic, and a whole bunch of booths and activities and stuff go up all over the sidewalks and into the road.  It's basically Town Day.  I live within walking distance of town, and I also know there's a Farmers' Market going on there, so I decide to mosey on up.

I start at one end where all the hoopla is happening.  A huge stage is set up, and some mature (as in my age) tap dancers are entertaining the crowd.  I'll admit, they're pretty good.  I meander down the street, almost convincing myself that I need another fancy dress on sale (I don't), or that I need an entire pound of pumpkin fudge (I don't), or that I should re-join the Choral Arts Society (they get my contact info, but I won't).

By the time I get to the Farmer's Market, I'm not really sure I want vegetables anymore.  I glance around and realize that I have fresh tomatoes and cucumbers and zucchini and such from friends' gardens, and I simply cannot convince myself to throw down $3.50 for a small baggie of green beans.

I wander over to the wine tasting booth (the guy is incredibly stingy about offering anything up from his nearby winery) and decide to play a few games with the old coot.  He thinks I don't know anything, is hesitant to even give me the time of day, so I start tapping into my limited knowledge of wines.

"Is the chardonnay oaked?"

"Um, partially," he responds.

"Partially?  What does that mean?  Is it, or isn't it?"

"Well, er, during the first part of the process..." I cut him off and demand a taste.  It's actually pretty smooth, but, at $25 a bottle, I can do better at the wine tastings I'm going to later, one of which is exclusively chardonnays. 

"Your pinot noir grapes, " I say, "you don't grow them locally, obviously.  From where do you get them?"

"Oh, uh ... well ... Sonoma Valley ..."

"Hmmmm.  California.  I prefer the Oregon pinots.  Let me try that..." And this goes on for a few minutes before I promise to visit his winery (I probably won't) and walk away empty-handed.

This is when two tables opposite each other catch my eye, both featuring locally made honey.  The best part about the locally made honey is that it helps ease allergies, and, no, this isn't an Old Wives Tale, or, if it is, it's a worthy one.  I end up buying a jar of the Methuen honey (a young girl is the beekeeper) and a jar of the Wilmington honey.

I don't end up spending much, but it's okay.  It frees up some money for the wine tastings I go to later, where the chardonnays are far superior, anyway, and a hell of a lot less expensive.