It would not have surprised me if I had spotted Noah's Ark (or the architectural remnants of it) at Brimfield this year. One practically did need a boat, and thigh-high galoshes to navigate the rice paddy-like conditions. Not only had Brimfield endured a devastating tornado in June, but it (and the dealers) also had to contend with a severe dumping of rain during the show. What added to the mix of good times, though, were my two intrepid companions who never quit as long as there were extraordinary things to marvel at. We terrified our unassuming 'porter-for-hire', by vowing we would abuse him (gently) for the hour we had him to ferry our flotilla of purchases. He asked me if I was afraid of tigers when I went home to Africa for holidays!!! I said I was more afraid of tigers in America. Then back at our motel room in the evening, the abundance of dinky bottles of Gin and Southern Comfort were most effective sleep aids. After all, re-energizing our flippers was absolutely essential for the following day's hunting...
|Mia trying on hats for size|
|Wanted the giant ball of braided yarn|
|We weren't too sure if he was real for a second|