When I first moved to Indianapolis, I was a little skeptical at the enthusiasm with which Bobbi discussed the State Fair. You know, not really my cup of blood and brimstone, but I guess if people wanted to go ride Ferris wheels and gawk at cows, it was a free country.
I don't think we went until 2010 or so, and it managed to endear itself to me almost instantly, to the point where it's one of the most important rituals of my year. This year, a last-minute chance for me to attend Paul-E-Palooza put a last-minute scrub on our plans to attend the Fair that Friday. However, as the last day of the Fair dawned yesterday, I realized I would not be able to face the coming winter without having performed what have become the Ceremonies of Summer. (People who have read
Hogfather
will perhaps grasp this.)
I had a couple hours before I needed to meet
Brigid for lunch, and that was enough time to pedal to the Fair and do what I needed to do.
First the three rituals...
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| The ritual of the feeding of the animals. |
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| The ritual of the photographing of the tractors. |
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| The ritual of the gawking at the engine of the grist mill. |
...and then the three sacraments...
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| The sacrament of the ice-cold Hoosier Red Gold tomato juice. |
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| The sacrament of the lemon shake-up. |
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| And the sacrament of meat on a stick. |
There. Now all is right with the world and the seasons can turn properly.
.
