Every year as summer puts out one last effort and autumn sneaks in to steal her thunder- we cut up sheets, sew them into over dresses and chemises and we head south for a renaissance fair.
The children run barefoot through the sudden village hundreds of years old and check back with us, giant turkey legs in their hands, blue glass bottles of homemade sarsaparilla tied to their belts and feet so dirty they look like hobbits.
It is magical. We are part of a booth with fiber works (of course) so I sit and spin and knit and felt and then we head off to watch the jousting, sitting on a grassy slope and rooting for our chosen knight or just walk through the village, basket in the crook of the elbow.
We return home dirty and tired but happy and full of history of one of the remarkable pasts that the human species has to draw from.......
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