August equals the Grange Fair.











I have been going to the Bucks County Grange Fair for as long as I can remember with the exception of ages 14 to 17 when the allure of livestock, crafts, crappy rides, and tractor pulls wasn't great enough to compete with whatever I was doing at that time.

I love the timelessness of county fairs. It's like an event that is caught in a timewarp and is resurrected every year. You can go to any county fair in this country and it will be the same exhibitions of homemade jam, tacky crafts and, of course, tents reeking of livestock. The concession stand will always sell lemonade, some kind of hot dog or sausage, and funnel cake.

It's funny because even though I grew up in a rural area and my house was in between two very large farms, my parents were not farmers. In fact, you couldn't find two people who were less suited for that kind of life. My dad grew up in Northeast Philly, for christ's sake!

It's a weird love affair I have with farming and rural life. Large, open spaces with very little contact of neighbors is what I grew up with and what ultimately feels right to me but I only have the tiniest of firsthand experience when it comes to farming. Although, I love to romanticize it, it's an experience and lifestyle that I think were I to actually live it, it would quickly bring me to my senses. One day, I will have my rural home with a garden that feeds me and my family but until then I have the Grange Fair.