notes from the kelp

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…about the music

Yee ha, hee haw; thank gawd I’m a country grrrrrl.

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Welcome to the San Juan County Fair! The lead photo of this post truly sums up island life. The only thing missing on this horse is a snap-on dorsal fin.

Having flogged you, dear Kelpville readers, with endless pix of orcas, foxes, eagles, raccoons, alpacas, squishy sea creatures, and furry critters, I thought it would be a nice change to show you some basic farm animals from last week’s rural roundup, since the San Juan Islands have a significant agricultural community. And, one helluva lot of hay this time of year. Come with me on a guided tour…

Got milk??

Next time your kids are driving you bonkers, think of this momma of ten. Unless you happen to have ten kids, in which case, my condolences.

This one apparently was jailed due to a drinking problem.

Now we know which came first. The chicken, above. At least on THIS blog.

Having a bad hair day? This gives new meaning to “cow lick.”

I strongly advised this cow not to look up and read the sign.

Yup, THIS sign. Hey, don’t look at me: I don’t eat meat.

Or, birds.

And that’s what they have to say on the matter.

Halo, Dolly! I’ve never before seen such an angelic sheep.

More jailbirds. Doesn’t look like these duckies are rovin’ anywhere anytime soon.

I’m a city girl. I’d never even heard of a “cavy” before. This fair is fun AND educational!

That about sums up this (and every) year’s collection. The only other tame farm animal exhibit that failed to make the photo essay was me, slurping up a sno-cone as I wandered around the warm, dusty stalls. Ok: TWO sno-cones, because I had to have one each day I went to the fair, because 1. I love them; 2. it’s part of my patriotic duty, and 3. nothing says “county fair” like shaved ice in three colors and a bunch of unidentifiable sugar-glop at the bottom of the cup as it melts. Well, “corn dog” says “county fair” just as effectively, but since I don’t eat meat, rather than assault my body with grease, I choose instead to flirt with keeling over from a diabetic coma. I can see it now: as I fainted, I’d be smiling broadly all the way down, no doubt keeping my sno-cone from hitting the ground much like a shortstop protects a precious fly ball. OUT! But, happy.