I just put in a very full Saturday at the Pumpkin Festival listening to the incessant chirruping of these maddening little creatures, since their stand was next to ours. As senior sponsor, I supervised a booth dedicated to the sale of schenetka and pumpkin rolls. That is to say, I helped set up, then spent most of my time running errands until time to take the booths down and clean up.
We sold over seventy dozen schenetka and I have no idea how many pumpkin rolls. Everybody seemed to have lots of mad money to spend.
They bought food and souvenirs--even totally useless ones like little bags of red Oklahoma dirt, which was sold by the chamber of commerce for a dollar, rendering a great return. (Because of the drought, dirt is more abundant than ever this year, and tiny snack bags don't cost much.)
Claye was asked to run a demonstrator booth, showing people how to spin pots and letting them try it. This was a good idea for her, as well, because she needs students, and this was a way to advertise. Turtle was there to field questions from parents, while the children enjoyed playing in the clay.
One little girl was particularly interested. She seemed oblivious to the crowds around, relishing the feel of the clay beneath her hands with a kind of intense blissfulness.
All morning, strange people strode fearlessly about the courthouse square. Everybody seemed to be sporting something unique--face paint, ponytails, pet dogs awaiting the dog show, children dressed for the parade, or even unusual tattoos.
Of course there was a parade, hailed by the mighty sirens of two firetrucks and a police car. Important people in the community were given a ride aloft, from whence they could hurl candy to their proud fans. There seemed to have been no entry requirements. The high school band marched proudly, trying to drown out the "righteous riders" a motorcycle "gang" who laughed as they reved rebellious-sounding engines; parents carried children in costumes, people walked their dogs proudly by like floats--full of fluff and bark.
There were old cars, decorated wagons, unicycles and even a tractor or two. Yes, that's Fred driving this beautiful John Deere green one.
There's nothing quite like proud sounding trumpets on a clear, cool morning.
And it's a good thing this horse didn't come by until later, because those trumpeters would not have been able to watch their steps.
Even the town mayor participated, singing for a couple of hours-- country songs, newly-composed ballads, and old hippie songs revived and sung with completely intelligible lyrics.
It was a kid-friendly place. Lots of them rode the barrel train or threw frisbees out on the courthouse lawn.
And there were toys for older folks too...old cars they remembered driving, way back when cars were a new invention. There was a stunt-driver, who drove his four-wheeler up a ramp and did stunts in the air, high above the cheering crowds.
My own students did an especially fine job, selling the schenetka and representing our school with smiles and lots of lively conversation with customers. I didn't have to sit and supervise--a job I loathe--but was able to dash madly too and fro like an uncharacteristically substantial humming bird who flits more than she flutters.
I saw several children of former students. Here's Sunshine and Stormy who have switched characters since I last wrote about them. Sunshine refused to give me a hug, so Stormy gave me two.
As the day wore on, I saw many revelers growing quiet and seeking quiet bubbles amid the crowd.
This little girl waved at me from her elegant perch on the courthouse porch.
The weather was perfect, the atmosphere benign and peaceful, but I'm exhausted and still recovering from the raucously continuous chirruping of those perky little parakeets.
