Horse Racing at the County Fair

Ever since I was a young girl, I have been going to the races at the county fair. My father got me hooked when I was about nine years old. I can remember dreaming that I would one day be a jockey. I could picture myself sitting high in the saddle at the fair, with my family members in the grandstands cheering me on. Even though my chance of living that dream is long gone, it doesn't stop me from enjoying an annual trip to the county fair for some horse racing, and a walk down memory lane.

This year was a first for me, however. I bet on every race, and won cash on all but one of them. The one I didn't win was when I bet the long shot. I am not a gambling woman, and when I do, I don't wager a lot. I love the sights and sounds of the races more than the gambling aspect. This year was my first time to sit in the trackside terrace, and that was a deliciously good time in and of itself. In any case, after wining in some way for seven races, to my surprise, I didn't come home with any more money than I had to start.

Brad won a lot of his wagers as well, and he also experienced the same phenomenon - breaking even after all races had been run and it was time to go home. It got me to thinking... people must not be truthful about how well they do at the races. All this time, I've never experienced as much winning as I did this past visit to the track. I can't see how we could have done any better. Yet no extra money for us. If I had it to do over again, I would. But I doubt I'll ever go there again thinking I am going to win a lot of money. If I'm not mistaken, most folks pay for every moment they spend at the track. I will continue to go for my love of horses, the sound of the bugle, and the thrill of hearing that infamous line, "The horses are in the starting gate... And they're off!"

Animal Friends

I meant to post this yesterday, but got caught up in Father's Day festivities. This video speaks for itself. It's a heartwarming story about a goat and a burro. Please copy and paste the link to watch the story.

http://abcnews.go.com/GMA/video/rescued-goat-reunited-burro-pal-23898033

Farmers Market

I have only been to my home town farmers market a couple of times. I have trouble remembering the hours of operation. Once or twice I've showed up on Sunday morning, only to find it wasn't open on Sunday. I guess I had entered that flub somewhere in my memory, because when I set out Saturday morning, sometime around 11, I was in for a pleasant surprise.

I had allotted an hour for the journey, but I because I analyzed a map beforehand, the ride only took 30 minutes! There were two potential routes, but I needed to make haste there, so I opted for the most direct one. I took my favorite trail most of the way, and merged onto a major street for the final blocks. I don't particularly enjoy an auto crowded street. I get frustrated by the way drivers don't share the road. My trust issues go into full swing, and I get angry easily at how they simply do not realize that I have no shell to protect me.

In any case, as I made my way past the final trail exit (from the road), I saw the dirt and gravel road I could have taken might be better for the journey back home. I was particularly interested in finding out if it would take longer, and I was inspired by the fact that there wouldn't be any cars. I made a mental note to turn onto it on the way home. 

After picking up THE most succulent strawberries, blueberries, and a sweet and spicy pepper jelly at the market, I set out for home. I turned onto the dirt road that had beckoned earlier, and quickly realized I was in for a treat. As I peddaled my bicycle on the shady, tree lined, creek path, it reminded me of when I was a girl pretending my bike was a horse. On this day, I pretended I was in a wagon, and I had picked up groceries from town, and I was heading home. I think my imagination was working overtime because of the jostle of the gravel road.

It felt like I had gone back in time, imagining how it might have been taking a horse and wagon to town. I felt that if I did have a horse today, this might actually be someplace I could ride it.  All my life I've wanted a horse, but nowadays the bike seems like a better fit, and as soon as I rounded the turn that brought me to the main trail towards home, I was back in the real world.  I also noticed that this route was taking twice as long, and on the final leg of the gravel road, I felt a little like Robert Frost when he wrote, "I doubted it I would ever come back." At least, not on the gravel trail.

This morning, I my household family members weren't disappointed when they awoke to the scent of freshly baked blueberry muffins in the kitchen, nor was I. I am also acutely aware that Saturday morning is THE best day for the farmers market for so many reasons. As I bite into the warm berry goodness, I realize that blueberries are one of natures delicacies. While I doubt I will take that gravel road again, I will definitely return to the farmers market many times - if only for the berries alone.