It’s that time of year: the Madison County Fair.
I can’t recall a time in my life that my family didn’t spend the week of the county fair making trip after trip after trip into town for fair activities; and for a rural family, a trip “to town” was most definitely not a daily activity.
Growing up, the week of the county fair meant 4-H projects to be completed and judged, fair entries to be turned into the basement, and dairy cattle to be washed, trimmed, and hauled into town along with show ring supplies, hay, straw, feed, pitchforks, wheelbarrow, and eventually a sleeping bag. Talk about a big deal to young kids! And that’s not even counting the excitement of carnival rides, Optimist pizza, and (once upon a time) pig races.
Sketchy Carnival Ride City!
Now, it’s impossible to stay away from the fair even though my involvement is miniscule in comparison. I love walking with the kids from barn to barn, and still need my fix of Optimist pizza. The boys have some years ahead of them before we will start their own 4-H experience, but the times spent at the county fair remind me of all the things this one week in July has taught me through the years.
Lesson #1: If you’re gonna procrastinate, be ready to pay the price.
I have no idea how my mom survived four daughters struggling to finish a dozen 4-H projects in time for them to be turned in for judging. I remember many evenings in the playroom with scissors, paper, and glue sticks trying to get an Animal Science project done that I’d spent much more time thinking about than physically working on. There were water garden and rock collection projects (Jenny), herb gardening and visual arts projects (Julie), a beautiful bug collection project (Jackie), and my Animal Science and photography projects. They all had to be turned in on the same day, to be judged and receive their ribbons and placings.
I learned that it’s better to work on things ahead of time and avoid the rush: but if I must fall into procrastination mode, then I’m accepting the responsibility of feeling frustrated and likely not doing as good of a job as I’d planned.
This is Jackie modeling a 4-H clothing project at the fair… definitely something that can’t be done the night before! (Sorry Jackie, my picture was all dark 😉 )
Lesson #2: Big awards follow a big investment.
Those flower gardening, art, photography, and cooking projects were fun, and came with a small amount of prize money for blue ribbons. But the big money came with showing dairy cattle. We never showed up with a dozen (or more) snazzy calves, heifers, and cows like some people would, but the few we picked out came with a lot of work. Having a cow ready for a show can’t be done the night before, with scissors and a glue stick. Rather, we would go out every morning for about a month prior to where our show string was tied up in their own space, taking time to not only give them feed and water but also practice walking them around the yard and brushing their hair. Most of the time, this job was not fun. Cattle have to learn how to be lead with a halter, and unfortunately for small kids and adults, that learning curve comes with those animals who are too stubborn to take a step forward and those who are so excited to get outside of the gate, they go 100mph leaving behind a rope burn and yelling. This was work, especially when it came to giving them their first baths and haircuts. Luckily, as kids, we weren’t on our own to figure this all out.
By fair time, we (usually) had tame cattle who were cooperative and shining from head to tail. Having them at the fair meant that we had to invest a lot of time being with them, to make sure they were getting fed and enough water to deal with the summer heat. And when it came time to go into the ring, we weren’t just hoping for a ribbon similar to a photography project; now there were beautiful plaques and big prize money.
I learned that if I’m hoping for a fancy award, or especially big money, it’s going to take a lot of time and pure work. And that work might involve steel-toed boots.
Lesson #3: You can’t always win.
Now that I’ve painted this awesome picture of winning hardware and money, I have to admit that we didn’t often come out on top. There was a lot of competition in our county who were very worthy of winning all their blue ribbons and shiny plaques. But that’s an important lesson: sometimes, you can do everything right and work your butt off. And not win.
And that’s okay, because you’re still stronger and smarter for having worked towards the goal of winning.
Can you see me? I’m not getting a blue ribbon.
Lesson #4: Make friends.
Some people have the gift of being easily friendly and outgoing, which is a gift I didn’t receive. Growing up, my friends consisted of people that I went to school with: typically involved in the same activities, and often the same age. But being involved with the fair meant that I was entering 4-H projects with kids across the whole county, and it turned out there was a whole lot beyond Highland! When it came to showing dairy cattle, we’d find ourselves sitting for hours talking to people that we likely wouldn’t even cross paths with again until the following summer. It was fun playing cards and sharing stories, but the best part was having help. If I had to take a big bossy heifer down to the wash rack, and I was pretty certain she could make a break towards freedom, I had help. If I had to be gone for a few hours while the cattle were at risk of taking their dumps and laying their freshly-bathed butts in it, I had help keeping them clean.
The 3 minutes circling the judge in the show ring were only a tiny portion of the fair experience. Sleeping on straw bales in a barn at the fairgrounds is actually fun with friends (although I’ll be honest, you won’t convince me to do that now!).
I’m pretty sure Jackie is also hanging onto mine because she was a bossy girl with an attitude.
Lesson #5: You can’t always care what you look like.
I kinda live by this lesson every day, to the point where I could probably benefit from leaning back the other way. But at the fair, I’d see classmates come to the fair for the rides or an event in the arena; they’d be wearing a new summer outfit and pretty sandals, and have hair and makeup to match. And there was me, sitting on a hay bale with a t-shirt that could handle getting pooped or slobbered on, hair up in a ponytail minus all the humidity-loving fly-aways (crap I haven’t gotten away from this at all), and never EVER sandals unless I was heading to the community shower. If I had cared, I couldn’t have accomplished anything else that I was there to do.
I guess the lesson here is that it’s fine to enjoy the confidence that comes with having my hair fixed and makeup in place. But life comes with lots of opportunities I would miss if I worry about messing any of that up (i.e. a tough workout, playing with my kids, anything on the farm).
You’ll see me at the fair, either pulling my kids along or being pulled (depending on the circumstances). I won’t be sleeping on a straw bale or modeling a sewing project (thank God). But hopefully my kids were still ask about the fair all year long and get excited at the chance to put together their own projects when they’re old enough. I can’t wait!
The Pleasant Farm 
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