It’s fair time around these parts. I haven’t been to the fair in a few years, but when I was growing up it was a big deal. Dean and I will probably take Dinah to the local county fair this weekend. She loves animals, and she loves being around people so I’m excited to see how she reacts. My cousins’ kids have projects in the fair, and one has sheep to show in the county fair back home this weekend. (Good luck Samantha, Jessie & Waylon! Love you all!)
Growing up, I was in 4-H so I spent my summers making projects to enter in the fair, and even showed lambs a couple years. My first lamb was a Southdown named Shari. I was nine years old, and worked my little tail off taking care of and working that lamb. A few weeks before the fair, my brother’s dog attacked her and I nursed her back to health, which included doctoring her wounds and giving her shots every day. Yeah, I’m pretty hardcore like that. We spent so much time together that summer. If I had her out of her pen working with her and wanted to go inside for a drink or something, I didn’t even bother putting her up. And, all the while I was inside; she would stand at the back door and bleat until I came back. My grandpa thought it was the funniest thing, and came up with a little poem:
Rachel had a little lamb
its fleece as white as cotton
and everywhere that Rachel went
the lamb came a trottin’
its fleece as white as cotton
and everywhere that Rachel went
the lamb came a trottin’
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