Saturday Slight

I haven't yet figured out how it can be so chilly in the morning and so unbearably hot in the afternoon.  

Seems like the lower morning temps of the past couple of days should hold down that thermometer during late afternoon.

That's not the way it works, though.  We've started out in the b-r-r-r  40s and will peak somewhere in the mid-90s today and tomorrow.

Could be,  and I hope it is,  the last scorcher weekend of the summer. 

Family members around here are planning water-related activities for the day.  

Some will head to the Moyie for floating and fishing, while others hope to find a spot on a Lake Pend Oreille shoreline all to ourselves and our pups. 

Whatever the case, "wet" is the word for this Saturday.  

Tomorrow we'll switch gears as Bill focuses on the arrival of the "Bike and Build" group.  

They'll be rolling in to their temporary living quarters at First Presbyterian Church after a long day of pedaling from Libby, Mont.

The local church group will host them for a couple of nights, providing them a place to sleep and some good home cooking.

I'll even be helping out by chopping up cabbage and preparing a big bowl of coleslaw.  

I'll also be searching my garden this weekend for items to take to the Bonner County Fair, which, for all intents and purposes, starts tomorrow with entering of exhibits.  

This year I'm cutting down on the number of items entered---maybe a few photos, a plate of beans, my serviceberry jelly and oregano.

I always enter oregano cuz so much of it is growing and blooming around the place at fair time.  Same with dill.  Might have to take some of that too.

The wind kinda came out of my sails yesterday afternoon while perusing the fairbook veggie section and looking for the pumpkin section.

I had a "great pumpkin" entry in mind.  It's sitting out there west of the barn in the manure-pile garden.  

It's a biggie, probably about three times the size of the general pumpkins we see at Halloween.

And, it's even turning yellow.  I thought pumpkins didn't turn yellow until it froze.  Guess I learn something new every day--------just like I learned last night from some "elderly" 60-somethings that coffee is free for geezers at McDonalds.  Didn't know that.

Anyway, this pumpkin is big and almost yellow.  

I figured there might be a special category for giant pumpkins in the fairbook.  Heck, there wasn't even a category for run-of-the-mill pumpkins.

I looked and looked but never found it.  

There is a category for "Other" though.  

So, I'll lug my big specimen down there and just enter it in "Other."   Twould be nice to win a blue ribbon in "Other." 

Barbara was talking about the "other" category in photography yesterday.  We were both agreeing that so many things fit in "other" that you just can't make up your mind. 

The last time I took something really big to the fair vegetable department it was a giant zucchini.

I remember that year specifically because,  on my way to take my giant zucchini to the Bonner County Fair, I encountered "Little Raindrop."  

Just as I was headed out the door with the squash, the phone rang.  

Little Raindrop was at the other end, telling me he wanted to meet me and that he was in town for just a short time. 

Well, when a man called "Little Raindrop" calls, your curiosity, if nothing else, forces you to take a detour and check it out.  

Just so you don't think I'm crazy, during our rather strange phone conversation, Little Raindrop dropped a name of a former student whom I knew really well. 

So my encounter had more to do with not disappointing my friend than an overpowering desire to meet some guy with a weird name. 

Taking my squash with me in the car, I drove to the appointed rendezvous spot downtown, walked through the door and asked about Little Raindrop.  

The proprietor pointed to a man in Jesus clothes and dreadlocks dangling clear to his ankles. 

It's a long story but the highlights of our 15-minute visit included Little Raindrop looking deep into my eyes (for a long time too), holding my hands and penetrating the very core of my soul. 

There was even a time when I was kneeling down on the floor looking back at Little Raindrop wanting to say, "What the Hell is going on here" but remembering my manners,  I simply asked,  "How long are you gonna stare at me?"

He just kept on staring and holding my hands and studying my soul. 

It seemed like an eternity, especially as people walked by, looking at me, kneeling on the floor,  staring back into the eyes of this complete stranger.   

I'm sure they were wondering if Marianne had lost her mind cuz I was thinking the same thing.

Finally, I broke the trance and said, "I have to go."  

He asked why. 

"I have to take my giant zucchini to the fair,  and the deadline is in 15 minutes," I said.

Seemed like a reasonable enough excuse, considering this strange situation.

Little Raindrop accepted my story.  

We unlocked hands and eyes and said good bye.  

I raced to the fairgrounds, stepped from my car with my giant squash and told the first person I saw in the parking lot, "You would never believe . . . ." 

My zucchini saved the day and later won a blue ribbon.

As for Little Raindrop, I'm sure he went on his way in his psychedelic bus and maybe told a few folks he met some really weird woman who had a fixation with a giant squash.

   

As I look back on it, I still cannot believe that brief interlude in my life actually happened, but it is, indeed, a true story.  

Hope my giant pumpkin experience at this year's fair proceeds without incident. 

On that note, I'll just wish everyone a happy Saturday.