"This is the real first day of summer, the day of the North Bovey Fair! And I pronounce the fair OPEN!" With those words the clergyman of the ancient, stone church began the festivities at the annual summer fair on the North Bovey village green. I can imagine that it has been tradition for hundreds of years for the current minister of the church to open the summer fair.
Bruce and I have returned to the blueberry farm in Devon, England, where we helped out for a couple of weeks in May. This time we are there as paying guests. We had happened upon the fair when we decided to go for a walk in the countryside. Walking is very popular among the Brit's, and there are lots of lovely walking trails, well-marked with signs and encouraged by the publication of detailed maps.
Last Saturday Wei-Wei, our hostess, had sent us off with sandwiches, and we had hiked through the meadows to the area high above the farm, called the cleave. The cleave is communally owned by the bordering property owners, who have the right to pasture cows and wild Dartmoor ponies there. In fact, it's encouraged to have animals feeding there, so that the moor grass will be kept short and won't revert to forest or bracken. Big Belted Galloway cows were grazing contentedly as we emerged over the crest of the cleave.
It was a beautiful day. From the top of the cleave, we could see far off over green rolling hills, sectioned into pastures which were bordered by hedgerows. Our maps indicated that there were walking trails to North Bovey, not too far away, so we set out for that little village, making our way down off the cleave on a rocky trail. A fellow walker, whom we met on the way, had alerted us to the fact that the village was having its fair that day, a bonus for us.
Looking out over the Devon countryside from the top of the cleave.
The grassy green was bustling with activities when we arrived. In an open area, a large Maypole had been erected with colorful ribbons attached to the top. Little girls in patriotic red, white, and blue dresses were dancing around it, while a trio of musicians played a medieval tune on a fiddle, penny whistle, and a guitar. I wondered if we had been dropped into a scene from a hundred years ago.
Dancing around the Maypole
In another corner of the green, a dog show was being prepared for. People with all manner of doggie friends were getting ready to vie for prizes in categories such as "Best Pedigree, Prettiest Bitch, and Dog the judge would most like to take home".
At the cake sale table, lovely looking homemade cakes were being tended by a white haired matron who has probably been doing this very same job for decades.
A couple of sheep in a cage participated agreeably in the festivities as passersby tried to guess their names. A fairground organ, housed in a truck decked out in Union Jack flags, played camp tunes while a toy orangutan waved his hairy arms in time to the music. In the middle of all of this, "Uncle Bobby" was tying balloons into funny shapes for kids.
Along the edge of the green, cream tea was being served at tables. Cream tea, we have learned, is a Devonshire specialty consisting of tea served with a scone and clotted cream and strawberry jam. So very British!
More typical church fair-type offerings included a table of flea market items and one filled with garden plants. Around the corner, the church was overflowing with books and local art for sale. It was a bit torturous to see all those good books and realize that I have no room in my bulging suitcase.
The whole fair had a very innocent, timeless, quintessential English feel. We walked around, ate our sandwiches on a bench, watching it all, and then had some "award-winning" local ice cream before beginning our trek back to the farm, feeling lucky to have experienced such a classic summertime British event.
We are in the last couple of weeks of our year-long adventure and are looking forward to returning home to family and friends. It's been an incredible experience, to say the least. It's also been a LOT of work, and we are pretty tired and full of new sights and friendships. As my friend Deb Smith, noted, we are yearning now for familiar places and relationships with deep roots. Having said that, we are in a special place - with a couple of more special areas yet to go - and we want to savor and enjoy them, too.
Bruce and I have returned to the blueberry farm in Devon, England, where we helped out for a couple of weeks in May. This time we are there as paying guests. We had happened upon the fair when we decided to go for a walk in the countryside. Walking is very popular among the Brit's, and there are lots of lovely walking trails, well-marked with signs and encouraged by the publication of detailed maps.
Last Saturday Wei-Wei, our hostess, had sent us off with sandwiches, and we had hiked through the meadows to the area high above the farm, called the cleave. The cleave is communally owned by the bordering property owners, who have the right to pasture cows and wild Dartmoor ponies there. In fact, it's encouraged to have animals feeding there, so that the moor grass will be kept short and won't revert to forest or bracken. Big Belted Galloway cows were grazing contentedly as we emerged over the crest of the cleave.
It was a beautiful day. From the top of the cleave, we could see far off over green rolling hills, sectioned into pastures which were bordered by hedgerows. Our maps indicated that there were walking trails to North Bovey, not too far away, so we set out for that little village, making our way down off the cleave on a rocky trail. A fellow walker, whom we met on the way, had alerted us to the fact that the village was having its fair that day, a bonus for us.
The grassy green was bustling with activities when we arrived. In an open area, a large Maypole had been erected with colorful ribbons attached to the top. Little girls in patriotic red, white, and blue dresses were dancing around it, while a trio of musicians played a medieval tune on a fiddle, penny whistle, and a guitar. I wondered if we had been dropped into a scene from a hundred years ago.
In another corner of the green, a dog show was being prepared for. People with all manner of doggie friends were getting ready to vie for prizes in categories such as "Best Pedigree, Prettiest Bitch, and Dog the judge would most like to take home".
At the cake sale table, lovely looking homemade cakes were being tended by a white haired matron who has probably been doing this very same job for decades.
A couple of sheep in a cage participated agreeably in the festivities as passersby tried to guess their names. A fairground organ, housed in a truck decked out in Union Jack flags, played camp tunes while a toy orangutan waved his hairy arms in time to the music. In the middle of all of this, "Uncle Bobby" was tying balloons into funny shapes for kids.
Along the edge of the green, cream tea was being served at tables. Cream tea, we have learned, is a Devonshire specialty consisting of tea served with a scone and clotted cream and strawberry jam. So very British!
More typical church fair-type offerings included a table of flea market items and one filled with garden plants. Around the corner, the church was overflowing with books and local art for sale. It was a bit torturous to see all those good books and realize that I have no room in my bulging suitcase.
The whole fair had a very innocent, timeless, quintessential English feel. We walked around, ate our sandwiches on a bench, watching it all, and then had some "award-winning" local ice cream before beginning our trek back to the farm, feeling lucky to have experienced such a classic summertime British event.
We are in the last couple of weeks of our year-long adventure and are looking forward to returning home to family and friends. It's been an incredible experience, to say the least. It's also been a LOT of work, and we are pretty tired and full of new sights and friendships. As my friend Deb Smith, noted, we are yearning now for familiar places and relationships with deep roots. Having said that, we are in a special place - with a couple of more special areas yet to go - and we want to savor and enjoy them, too.
No comments:
Post a Comment