I have spent the past four days immersed in the intense and exhausting task of managing the home and garden exhibit tent at the Harmony Labor Day Fair. I have held this position for the past seven years or so, and every year something or other goes wrong. This year turned out to surpass even Big Flood Year, when I was up all night dealing with the thunderstorm-fed river that was carrying away giant zucchinis and cardboard 4-H displays of how to teach a dog to sit, etc.

This particular fair weekend will live in memory, I believe, as Big Wind Year: the year when huge iron tent stakes tore out of the ground and the walls kept collapsing and folding tables full of prize-winning tomatoes blew over and smashed into pulp and all the baked goods and cute little hand-knit caps were smeared with thick layers of dirt and piles of blue ribbons and name tags blew under the stage and into the prize-ticket booth, never to be seen again.

Yet despite this excitement, the fair was not all bad. In fact much of it was good. One of my sons received Best in Show for his strawberry jam; the other took third place in the pie-eating contest. They spent the entire weekend on a bracing french fry and hot dog diet. They experimented with the construction of fake ride bracelets. Their rock band semi-wowed the crowd at the talent show. I myself was called upon to help draft a plaque-presentation speech and heard much memorable and intriguing local gossip.

I did not, however, get much reading done, though I'm thinking about writing a poem in honor of the volunteer ambulance guys. Bless their hearts: when they get an emergency call, those fat men can really run.

Dinner tonight: not hot dogs.