It was a gorgeous August day and we had nothing planned, so Mike and I decided to take an impromptu drive up to Lake Simcoe. When I was growing up, my family used to have a little cottage up on the east side of the lake, near an obscure little town called Beaverton, so we thought we’d head up that way and indulge in a bit of nostalgia.
Our route took us past Sutton ( almost as obscure as Beaverton), where we noticed a small sign advertising the annual Sutton Fair and Horse Show. This used to be the highlight of my childhood summers, and we took an immediate detour to check it out.
I was relieved to see that even after 60 years, (30 since we used to bring our own kids), it was pretty much unchanged, as you can see from the age of the map.
Of course when I was a kid, the main attraction was the little midway with its rides, the games that sucked quarters out of our pockets as we tried, in vain, to win some huge stuffed animal and, above all else, candy floss (also known as cotton candy). I used to adore that stuff —to my mother’s chagrin — with its billowy cloud of pink sweetness that melted instantly on the tongue. Heaven.
I realize now that I missed the point of the whole thing — the horseback riding events and the celebration of local agriculture, mainly livestock: horses, cows, sheep, goats, pigs etc, whose owners win prizes for particularly fine specimens. For example:
BUT — I most deeply regret missing out on events like this next one which, if we had come but a day earlier, I would not have missed for the world.
Lest you think that frog jumping is just some children’s pastime, I assure you it is a serious business. A quick internet search took me to the website of the home of modern Frog Jumping, —”The Cavaleros County Fair and Frog Jumping Jubilee” — in Frogtown CA, which is located at 2465 Gun Club Road (this being America after all).
“The City of Angels Camp held the first modern frog jump in 1928. It became part of the annual Fair in the 1930’s. The Top 50 frogs qualify for the International Frog Jump Grand Finals, which are held every Sunday afternoon of the Jubilee. The current world’s record was set in 1986 by Rosie the Ribeter. Rosie jumped 21 feet 5 3/4 inches. The cash prize for breaking the world’s record is $20,000.“
“Rosie the Ribeter” — Honestly, you can’t make this stuff up! (By the way, the latest world record is now 33 feet 5.5 inches. Sorry Rosie.)
To console ourselves at having missed out on this attraction, we headed to the Exhibition (aka Vendor’s) Hall where we were greeted by — what else?— a vast array of butter tarts. Butter tarts are to Ontario what hummus is to Israel. Unique to Canada, every little town in cottage country takes pride in their version: “The Best Butter Tarts in one of — Muskoka, Ontario, Canada, the World” — you get the idea. And for real fanatics there are butter tart festivals all summer throughout the province. For those who are not familiar with this delicacy, picture a pecan pie, with no pecans, and a slightly runnier centre with notes of caramel and butterscotch.
Some tarts are made with added raisins or nuts, but this is the subject of some controversy in the butter tart world, where traditionalists scoff at such an adulteration of the pure original. I am definitely in the purist camp. Mike is more liberal.
Imagine then, my dismay at finding this display: not in some city bakery, but here at the Annual Sutton Fair and Horse Show! Butter tarts with Reeses Pieces, Oreo Cookies, Smores, Turtles, blueberry cheesecake, pistachio creme, to name but a few! Who, in their right mind, would stuff an Oreo cookie into a butter tart? This is just wrong.
We picked up half a dozen of the traditional variety.
From there we wandered about and and bought a few more things. Mike picked up some local honey, fresh that day, and sold by a very charming mother and daughter. Who could resist?
I picked out some lovely laser cut pop-up greeting cards. By the time I had picked out five in order to get the sixth one free, I had lost track of Mike.
Which brings me, finally, to the fire blankets.
As I rounded the corner of the aisle leading back to the butter tarts, I spotted Mike holding three fire blankets, (yes of course there was a deal), chatting all the while to a very amiable vendor. These blankets are made of spun fibreglass and are used to smother small domestic fires, usually in kitchens, or in over-heated clothes dryers, barbecues etc. We have managed to live our whole lives without ever needing something like this, but once you get the pitch, you have to have one. Or three, in our case.
As I waited for payment to be concluded, Mike leaned toward the vendor and said; “I want you to know that we are taking these back to a war zone.” “A war zone?” The guy’s eyes widened and he called over his colleague who was standing near by. (I started to feel a bit uneasy.) ” Listen, these blankets are going to a war zone —tell us where!”, he said to Mike. (Okay, here we go.)
“Tel Aviv”, Mike replied. Then…
Big smiles all around; the first guy shook Mike’s hand, then mine; “This is great!”. The second guy then did the same, and said how meaningful this was, and how much he appreciated the support! (Who knew?) We felt good. They felt good. And now we have three blankets that I hope we never need.
On this note we left the Sutton Fair, and continued up the lake. We had a classic grilled cheese lunch at the old Cedarhurst golf course (built in 1922), we drove down Maple Beach Road, and had a look at the lake, and finally we ended up in Beaverton. Maybe everyone was at the Sutton Fair because the main street was deserted and had a bit of a sad air to it.
But, like every small town I know in Canada, pride of place was given to the war memorial. And this time I really looked at it.
The base has been restored, but the statue is the original from WW1; and if you look closely at the figure, you are reminded of just how young so many of these boys were. On three sides are listed the names of those who fell in the First World War, the Second World War and the Korean War (which I always forget). This seemed a fitting finish to the day, so we packed up and drove home.
As Mike reflected, “The cost of a carefree Saturday: Just $8.00 each for the Sutton Fair — parking included. Oh, and these young men.”
Small-town Ontario did not let us down.