The sun shines hot on the cheerful fields. No noise from a midway breaks its late summer spell. Only the lowing of cows, the rooster's crow, carry through the air. The animals, all groomed and fresh from showing are escorted back to stalls smelling sweetly of hay. Their owners have decorated their pens, and ribbons adorn the stall gates. A goat quietly attempts to chew his way to freedom while three other goats watch on, peering over the next stall. The rooster again crows loudly.
There are no children running about, only those dressed for showing their livestock, tending their animals. 4-H ribbons scattered about displays. The soft smell of funnel cakes being prepared for the crowds to come.
A short walk from the car. A nod of greeting from the parking attendant, an elderly gentleman with a cane. No cheap prizes, noone enticing my children to play their overpriced games, no crowds or noise or demolition derbies. The fair is softer by day.
My kids are laughing now, as they hear me say I don't care for the noise and hoopla. We'll take them to the fair tonight, but it is yesterday's afternoon walk through the animal stalls and 4-H displays that I prefer. The grounds won't smell so sweet or sound so soft tonight, but this is what my children crave. They want the noise, the bright lights, a child's eye view of the "big city" brought to the countryside. But the freedom to let the smaller ones run ahead a little, to stop and let the goats take your scent, to watch the bunnies' noses twitch, these are the details that the night misses. For me, I prefer the fair by day.
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