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After a few days of rainy-day postponement and a bit of waffling, Mr. Cleaver and I made our way to the Cumberland County Fair Friday evening having decided to alternate years with the Fryeburg Fair.

The Fair never really changes, the bunnies and fried dough occupy their same spots each year, but there’s something comforting in it’s familiarity: in the pig races and livestock pulls, the pumpkins and mums, the earnest 4-Hers and the disaffected teens.

I’m sure one year I’ll tire of it, but for now I revel in the contrast of the farm and the ferris wheel, and dream of mini-rex bunnies with fur like velvet.

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