Oh, the fun at the festival just continued. Much more fun and I don't think I could stand it.
Although, I don't profess to know everyone, we don't live in a large town, but as the folks started trickling in, I saw very few familiar faces. Oh, here and there a friend would past by. When my mother came to join me around lunch time, she held court with the over 70 crowd. But, I'm convinced I could accompany my mother to a computer hacking convention and, even though she doesn't trust those 'internets' she would know folks. She is a card carrying member of the silver haired, blue plate, give-me-a-call-sure-I'm-free-to-go-anytime society.
For some reason, people thought I was running a therapy stand (similar to Lucy's - except she would charge a nickel and dole out advice.) I just would politely nod and say as little as possible, learning early - the hard way - that any response just solicited more unwanted confession.
- There was the gentleman who spent fifteen minutes explaining to me how he was the bus driver for a local country church. He told me the destination of every trip they had taken this year and that now they had a 59 passenger "Comfort Ride Cruiser". Just when I thought he was finished, he started up again, "And, my wife is from Providence, Rhode Island, you know up there in New England and she won't go anywhere. I even tried to get her to go back to Rhode Island to tour those big homes up there. Have you ever . . . " By that time all I heard was "Wah, wah, wah, wah, wah . . ." He eventually moved on.
- About a half hour later, an eccentrically dressed lady with a distinguished accent just appeared and started comparing the provenances of our names. (Other than Ann which were spelled differently, they had nothing in common that I could tell.) Then suddenly she said, "I think I am just going to have a seat here for a while." With that she pulled up one my chairs, planted herself in it, and for twenty minutes or so just prattled on about everything from a picture she and her siblings had taken in Adirondack chairs (this was spurned on by a picture of mine of such chairs on a deck) to winning a trip to see Rock City. Then just as she appeared, she excused herself and moved on.
By this time I was waiting to either look up and see the grinning Cheshire cat or have a very nervous rabbit come running by, swearing he was late.
- Two ladies came by and asked if the Hydrangeas were for sale. (No)
- A Japanese family stopped in front of my tent, stood there for a minute or so, chatted very seriously in Japanese, did not acknowledge my presence, then moved on.
- I looked up to see two serious professional (or at least willing to pay a lot for cameras to look the part) gentlemen looking at my work. One asked, "Is this piece yours?" "Yes, everything here is my work." "And, this piece on canvas, is it a photograph?" "Yes." Before, I could say anything, he added pointing to various areas on the canvas, "If you put a dab of paint here and some over here you could call it your own." Then they turned and left. Huh?
- Three women were looking at a picture of the ruins of a church I had displayed on easel out front. One of them said, "I've seen that some where." The second said, "Oh, that picture was on the cover of one of the magazines I get." (If so, I'd like to know which one, because I was unaware that the picture had been published.)
- Another lady came by, "How much do you want for your petunias?"
I am still not sure I spent the weekend at the Rose Festival or the March Hare's tea party.