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Radiantly, without pause, in ever-growing warmth, the sun shines down upon our game of t-ball. Thought no clouds find themselves residing in the sky, we keep manufacturing them from our diamond on the grounds. Cleat upon cleat march their procession through the bases, kicking up sand that would perhaps be used for cicada killer wasp burrows in another time.
But it's t-ball time.
*THWACK!* Our ball goes hurtling away from home plate, struck by our resident driver, Danny. With an accomplished grin on his face, Danny rumbles into motion, aiming to return to the plate from whence he came. Out! Out! Out to the outfield our t-ball flies. Surely the other team wasn't expecting an easy out, but I doubt they expected this slam either. They scramble farther into the grass, one kid tripping over herself and losing her helmet in the process. The game of t-ball rewards the nimble -- and not many among the opposing team seems to have done their stretches this morning.
Meanwhile, Danny's thoroughly enjoying himself. This has to be his team's high score, he thinks. Not that we keep score, but Danny likes to add it up in his head. Not that Danny's good at addition. Nevertheless, having had kids on second and third base, and with Danny rounding third, it doesn't take a genius to know that we're doing well this time around. Up and down, Danny bobs, relishing in this most satisfying of innings as he bounds ever-closer to home.
Our opposing team isn't faring so well. Having finally reached our ball's resting place, the three nimble outfielders realize that they should have stayed staggered. Helmet girl is the only one remaining in the comically large gap between our ball and the diamond. Truly, looking from the dugout, I had to squint just to see the far-off t-ball trio. Could this have been a cross-county hit?
Let me explain. Our recreation center, technically belonging to the township, has a deep field bordering it. The baseball diamond happens to lie on the edge of our recreation center, with the outfield spilling out to the deep field. It's easy to see the difference between the two -- you see, our township uses our county's grass seed for the outfield. My dad says we have the best grass seed around, and points often to the deep field for comparison. The deep field has dandelions and clovers and moss and even flowers growing in it, which I rather enjoy, but the grass is kind of plainly yellowed compared to our outfield's green green grass. Truthfully, that deep field is in the county next door. They don't even have grass seed -- it's just wild grass! Every once in a while, someone strong like Danny gets a real good crack at our t-ball and sends it to the next county, to the deep field. Our team seems to do that more than the other teams, but I bet Danny would know more than the rest of us. He likes to keep track.
At this point, the other team is trying to get our ball back to the diamond for posterity's sake alone. Danny did his signature backwards dive into the plate, leaving the bases attended only by the other team. The shortstop has ran out to bridge a little bit more of the distance between the diamond and helmet girl, which was still a pretty big distance. Helmet girl gets our ball, with a focused look on her face covering up the satisfaction of a good play partially making up for her earlier blunder. She gives our ball a good lob, which the shortstop does not catch. His fault, not hers. The next batter of ours already gearing up, and the short stop can't even get a grip on the ball! That's okay though, it's only t-ball, my mom would say. But she doesn't know. "We're trying to play a game here!" the next batter yells out, and our coach half-heartedly scolds her. You can tell coach secretly agrees though.
Finally, many yawns later, our ball gets back to the T. When will I venture again to the neighboring county, our ball wonders to itself. Or so I like to imagine. That would be funny. I like to think of what our ball feels, and if it ever misses our other balls we've had over the seasons. There's a ball lost in the deep field, and maybe our current ball wants to find it and be reunited. Like a rescue mission. As I sit wondering, our next batter gets a hit -- *SMACK!* Kind of a grounder, but it has some distance to it. Under, under; two sets of legs it rolls under, getting almost to the outfield before being scooped up in the other team's mits. Thrown to first base, it just doesn't quite cut the mustard. She's safe! "Good job!" some of us cheer. I go back to my wondering.
If this ball is our ball, how does it feel when it helps the other team? Is it really "our ball" in that sense? Perhaps its relationship to us is a little more complicated. It's not really on our team, but it does have a working relationship with us. We collaborate with our ball. We provide the force and desire to set it into motion, to bring it to spots in our field and beyond that it probably wouldn't have gone otherwise. We give our ball shelter in the in-between times as well, when we're not playing games and during winters. I'd hope our ball likes the recreation area shed; Gerry's grandpa renovated it last year. Maybe he did that for our ball. But I wonder how it feels to the other balls that got lost out in the deep field, or other places, that don't get to stay in the shed anymore. They never even got to see the renovations!
But maybe they don't feel so sore about it all. Maybe they accept the fact that they're lost; maybe they don't even think of themselves as lost per say. Maybe all of our balls consider the possibility of ending up deep in a field as just something that can happen to a ball while it's doing its job, and that it's better to just accept it. Maybe they get to see all sorts of neat things, like little fox pups practicing their hunting, or a butterfly migration in the fall. Maybe they even get to go on their own adventures, and if we ever find them, they could tell our other balls and make them excited to go out in the deep field themselves! Maybe. Maybe...
"Batter up!" our coach yells to the dugout. Oops! I had my head in the thought clouds instead of the dust clouds. My turn to bat!
I do my usual -- I pick up my bat, I knock it two times on each cleat, and walk up to the T. I adjust my helmet, even though it didn't need adjusting -- it's just the thing to do at the plate. Having completed the pre-hit rituals, I grip the bat with both hands and stare down our ball, squinting slightly. I think and I think about the t-ball adventures in the deep field: making friends with grasshoppers, navigating clover fields by the light of the fireflies, maybe even getting to play in a raccoon t-ball game! Okay, that's a little too silly. But I concentrate on all of that, and form it into a swing and a *SMACK!* Woah!! It's flying! Our ball is flying! I'm just staring and standing for a second, admiring a job well done, but remember that my job isn't finished just yet! I drop my bat and run for first. This could be a grand slam! I had hardly noticed that the bases were loaded before stepping up to bat, but not I have to really make the most of the opportunity. Our ball sure is doing its part -- it still hasn't hit the ground yet! I can't believe it! Another cross-county hit! I want to watch just where our ball lands, but I have to focus on getting around the diamond. I pass the shortstop; it's just not his day today. I keep going to third, and before I know it, I'm home! I don't do a fancy slide like Danny or anything, but I do jump up in the air and go "Woohoo!!!" Some of my teammates give me high-fives. I look to see where our ball ended up, and waaaaaaaay out in the deep field, all four outfielders are walking around, looking for our ball. I smile. Looks like I sent our ball off on an adventure. :)
Our post-game t-ball team dinner was great. Danny likes to replay all of the game that he remembers, and other kids fill in the gaps. He enjoys hearing the parts he doesn't remember -- he usally goes something like, "Oh yeah! That was so cool!" After recalling the game, he went, "And to think we got TWO cross-county hits! What a game! This was our best game ever guys! It had to be a bajillion to none!"
Danny exaggerates, but it was okay this time. It really did feel like a bajillion to none, and our winning streak kept on going. My mom gave me four quarters for the arcade, and I got the high score on Centipede on my second quarter! That felt good. Gerry won free ice cream for the whole table in the claw machine -- Mr. Leo usually wouldn't give out that much free ice cream, but he made an exception for us. We give him lots of business, my dad says. Even though I got a gnarly brain freeze, I really enjoyed it. My mom says not to stick my finger on the roof of my mouth to fix the freeze, since my hands could be dirty. "Better to ride out the pain for a minute than to be sick for a week," she says. Yeah, but sometimes they hurt so bad that it's worth the risk of getting sick. I don't backtalk her though.
Anyway, all through our dinner, even through my brain freeze, I was thinking about our ball. That's the second ball we've sent on a deep field vacation, and the first one in a bit. I wonder if they'll meet up! Would our more recent ball even recognize the older ball? How do over-winter adventures change a t-ball? Would it still remember the game? I think so. I certainly remember t-ball after every winter, although I don't live in the deep field. Either way, our more recent ball's adventures are just beginning! I'm happy for it, and it'll give me lots to imagine once our t-ball season is over.
I was full and satisfied after dinner. I said goodbye to everyone in the parking lot, and my parents drove me home. I would usually ask to watch half an hour of TV before bed after game days, but I was still grounded for picking on my little sister. That's okay -- I wanted to draw. I took a bath, got in my pajamas, brushed my teeth, flossed, and fiiiinally went to my room and got out my drawing notebook. I turned to a blank page, quickly flipping past prior adventures I had drawn out. I can't spoil this new one with the old ones -- that's my philosophy. I started drawing all sorts of scenarios for our t-balls out in deep field; they meet up and catch up on old t-ball times. They talk about the county grass -- the old t-ball reassures the newer one that the grass in deep field is "just fine," and that you get used to it pretty quickly. They meet a bull frog and almost get swallowed whole! A salamander fights off the bullfrog and shows the t-balls its favorite watering hole, where they can wash themselves off and get refreshed. They find a nice spot to sleep under the stars, and the newer ball thanks me for giving it this fun new opportunity in life.
Eventually, my mom told me that it was bedtime, and even though I wanted to keep drawing, I fell asleep really quickly once the lights were off. Knocked out nefore hitting the pillow, my dad would say.
I like school. I get to see all of my friends, I get to play outside at recess, and I get to learn! I'm not the best at science, but I'm pretty good at math. English and history are fun too. My grandpa likes history a lot, so I always tell him about what I learned, and he tells me more stuff about it. Sometimes I'll teach my classmates about the extra stuff my grandpa tells me, although not everybody cares. That's okay, I don't always care when other kids talk about science.
Art class is probably my favorite though, behind English. I was excited to go to school in particular the day after my big game, because we had English, recess, art, history, lunch/recess, math, reading time, recess, clean-up, and then after-school daycare. That's the best day to have! We got to write our own stories in English after our spelling tests, and I finished my test early to get a head start. My teacher said I need to work on my penmanship if I'm going to write so fast, but that's okay. I can read it just fine.
I got to writing my story. Of course, it was a story about our t-balls in the deep field. This time, they were watching different types of bees pollinate wildflowers. I don't know all of the different types of flowers that grow in the deep field, so I used some of the flower types in the pollinator garden we have at home. Purple coneflower, black-eyed susan, butterflyweed, blue-flag iris, and winecups. Our t-balls stop at each flower, watching the bees enjoy the nectar and collect the pollen in their leg sacks. They wonder what its like to be a bee, and if they've ever played t-ball. "Probably not," the older ball says. "Usually the raccoons play and the other animals watch." The newer t-ball has much to learn in the ways of the deep field.
I just barely finished my story before it was time to go to recess. Originally I thought that it was supposed to rain that morning, which would mean there'd be a chance to go to the computer lab for indoor recess, but it was just cloudy. That's okay -- I like outdoor recess too. It gets the blood flowing, like my parents say. On the menu for the morning was a great game of freeze tag. Recess is cool because you get to see your friends from other classes that you met in earlier grades, and I have lots of friends from over the years. We had a great big game of freeze tag, and it spanned the whole playground! I wasn't "it" this time, and I eventually got froze right in the middle of the swingset. Ryan wanted to swing on the swing I was froze right next to, but I had to explain through my teeth that I was frozen. He wasn't playing freeze tag -- he doesn't like running that much. He didn't care that I was frozem, but I wasn't about to cheat, so I couldn't move. He started whining to one fo the recess moms, but just as she was about to come over and tell me to move so he could swing, my old pal Zach unfroze me so I could make my getaway. Phew, crisis averted. I got frozen again on the sledding hill though, and recess ended before I could get unfrozen again. At least it wasn't winter, so I didn't get hit by sledders!
At long last, art class! My plan was coming to fruition quite nicely. After writing my story and taking the recess to enjoy myself, I came back creatively rejuvenated and ready to illustrate my work from English class. I had remembered that the art teacher had told us we were going to be exploring watercolor that day, so I wrote about the flowers and the bees since I had some experience painting those in watercolor. I messed up the black-eyed susans a little bit, and I made the first few bees too long, but I was proud of my work besides that. Nobody's perfect, and my art made me happy. It made my art teacher happy too -- when they found out that I was pairing the painting with my story, they asked if it was okay to show them off in the student creation display. Yes, it's very okay! I was beaming, and it felt like I was floating on a cloud through the rest of the schoolday. I even forgot to write down the history I learned to tell grandpa, but that's okay. I made my own history!
It had ended up raining starting at lunch, and continued into the afternoon, so I got lots of computer lab time. During school hours, they supervise our computer time more, so I just played some typing games and typed up a copy of my story with cool fonts and colors. During after-school daycare though, I got to surf the web. B^) Most of my after-school friends and I like to play Bloons Tower Defense. My older cousin says he used to play that when he was in the computer lab too -- it must be an old game!I wondered if there was a mod to make it t-ball themed instead, and I started to look for one, but my mom got out of work early and picked me up. Ah well, next time. I just couldn't wait to tell her about my story and painting!!!
I convinced my dad to take me to our next t-ball practice early. I wanted to explore the deep field and get more ideas for stories. We got there half an hour early, and I was ready! I ran across the parking lot, through our diamond, through the outfield, and I was there. I stopped and stood for awhile, taking in the whole scene. Long grass, clover, asters and sneezeweeds and lots of goldenrod in bloom; that was a lot of the deep field. Old, dried-out coneflower stems were sticking up over the grass, and the black-eyed susans were in between alive and dormant -- it's starting to feel like autumn, I thought. But the sun was still warm and bright. A bit farther into deep field, a few thickets of different sizes were growing. I usually didn't go far enough to see them up-close, so I made my way towards them.
"Ow!!" I was being careful where I was putting my feet, like dad said, just in case of holes or nests or animals, but I was so busy watching the ground that I didn't notice the thistles I walked into. "Owwwwwwwww..." I continued, slowly backing out of the spiky patch I found myself in. I looked down at my left arm -- oof. I had to pull a needle out of my arm. I was glad I didn't cut my fingernails nefore practice, so I had a bit of extra pull to get it out. It hurt, but I had to be strong. Writing a story about crying the deep field wouldn't be fun at all.
Finally, after taking a detour around the thistle patch, I made my way to one of the thickets. It had kind of darker green leaves, some red on the stems, and green-ish white berries. I didn't dare try and eat the berries, because I didn't know what kind of thicket I was looking at, but I pulled a handful off as samples to show my dad. He's usually pretty good at knowing what things are. I wrote down a description of the thicket too, just in case. I carefully parted a few branches to see if I could see any birds or critters, but if any lived there, they were all out looking for dinner I guessed. I wondered if any of our t-balls had seen this thicket yet. Maybe they had used it to take cover from the rain the other day. I looked around for other rain cover they might have used; besides the few other thickets here and there around me, there wasn't much else besides the woodline, which was still a little ways off. I looked up at the trees; there were so many. It was hard to make out individual trees for identification, but some of them were already turning yellow. I squinted -- maybe those are hickory trees! My dad has taught my sister and I about different types trees and plants that make food we can eat, and he did say that hickory trees have yellow leaves in the fall and real tasty nuts. I write this observation down too; it would be so cool to harvest some nuts! I start walking towards the trees to get a closer look, but I hear the coach's whistle back at the diamond. Practice time!
Our coach always makes sure we do our jogging and stretching before starting. It's super important to prepare yourself to do your best, for the sake of the team and for the sake of your own health. That's what coach says.
So we ran some laps around the fenceline and the outfield, we stretched our arms and legs and throwing and catching muscles, did some karaokes and jumping jacks, and then went into catching practice. My dad's one of the parents that help out at practices, helping us with the balls that we aren't able to catch. He says it makes our practices more productive if we don't have to go chasing t-balls the whole time. I think he's right.
Eyes on the ball, feet apart, close the glove once the ball is in hand. I feel a lot better at catching than I was last year, and the year before that. I know I can definitely hit our ball better too. But! What a kid can do at practice only means so much -- it's the performance at the games that really means the most. And we always scrimmage at practice!
No one hit anything cross-county this time, which is okay. I missed a catch from an outfielder when I was on second, but made it up by still getting a runner out. Eyes on the ball. I'm usually pretty "in the zone" during our scrimmage games, since we're already focusing on improving our skills, so I didn't think too much about the deep field until practice was over and I reached into my pocket. "Oops!" The berries I picked were mostly squished from playing. I did my best to get it all out of my pants and showed my dad, who was just finishing up putting things away in the shed. Looking at the berries and reading my description of the thicket, he was pretty sure it was a gray dogwood. Good thing I didn't eat those berries -- they're for birds, not humans! Even better, my dad said we could go as a family to the woods in a week or two and see about harvesting some nuts. I was so excited!!
One of my favorite places to go with my family is Applebee's. I feel like we go there maybe once every two months, but I wish we went more. Sometimes we'll go with grandpa, which is always fun. We'll talk about history, and he'll make sure to convince my parents to let me and my sister have dessert. We appreciate grandpa.
So anyway, we went to Applebee's with grandpa one day for dinner. We got to sit at one of the high tables, which I thought was pretty cool. My sister and I are still kind of short for it, so they say, but we're careful. After we ordered our drinks (I got a Sprite), it was time to look at the menu. Except I didn't need to look at the menu; I knew what I wanted already. B^) My sister and I split the mozzarella sticks for an appetizer, and then I get the chicken fingers for the main course. No sauce though. I always get that combo.
My mom actually has a deal for me at Applebee's -- I can only get the same thing each time if I try a bite of her meal and a bite of my dad's meal. If I like it, they'll write it down and make a healthier version at home. I think it works out pretty well; I get my favorite meal from Applebee's, and we get to find new recipes to enjoy as a family. My sister doesn't always get thesame thing (this time she got mac & cheese), but she usually wants to try our parents' meals anyway. I think it's fun!
I told my grandpa all about my t-ball story and painting, and he thought it was real neat. He said he wants to see them both once they take them down from the display case. That made me happy. My sister talked about the stuff she's doing in pre-school, like practicing for their Thanksgiving play and arts and crafts and stuff. My dad said it was a little early to bepracticing a Thanksgiving play while it was still September, and I agreed. Leave some room for Halloween! Mom thought it was good that they're making sure to get the play just right. I can understand both.
The mozzarella sticks came while they were talking about that though, and they tasted soooooo goooooood. My sister and I each had three, and grandpa had the seventh one. He said that was the history tax. I brought my history notebook with me, and even though I forgot to write down the stuff we learned on the day I got my art and story in the display case, I still had other days wrote down. I told grandpa that the teddy bear was named after the president Teddy Roosevelt, and that he liked lots of animals. He told me that Teddy Roosevelt was the 26th president, and also the youngest president to ever enter office. He said that Teddy was very popular at the time, and he was the most recent president added to Mount Rushmore, which is in South Dakota. I think Teddy Roosevelt is myfavorite president! He hasa cool moustache.
Our main meals came soon after our history discussion, and we stopped talking quite as much to just enjoy ourselves. I tried some roasted veggies from my dad's plate, and a few bites of salmon from my mom's plate. They were tasty! My sister didn't like all of the vegetables yet, but she did like the salmon. My chicken fingers were, of course, scrumptious. Just the right amount of crunch, warmth, and juiciness. I love chicken fingers.
After we finished our meals, it was time for dessert! Grandpa made sure to not let mom and dad forget. My sister got a brownie with ice cream on top, and I got an Oreo shake. When our waiter brought us our desserts, he had extra Oreos for me on top of my whipped cream. I was so excited! But before he put it down on the table, he ate all but one of them!! I was so mad!!! "Hey, those are *my* Oreos!" I said. He just shrugged, and didn't say anything since his mouth was still full of Oreo. My mom was just laughing and laughing, but I didn't think it was so funny. My grandpa said to be a good sport, because those waiters have to be on their feet for hours and hours and probably get real hungry. I guessed that made sense, but he still coudl have ate Oreos that weren't mine.
Anyway, the shake was delicious, and the waiter even tried bringing me a couple of extra Oreos later. I told him it was okay -- I was full, and waiters get really hungry sometimes. He thanked me for my generosity and popped those Oreos in his mouth too. The adults paid for the food, I gave my grandpa a real big hug and a "love you bye," and before I knew it we were on our way home. I wasn't grounded anymore, so I got to watch some Spongebob before bed. Another great Applebee's day.
HUZZAH! My family and I all went down the the Ren Fest in late September, and it was a blast. It takes about an hour and a half to drive there, and according to my dad, another half an hour just to get a danged place to park. The air as we stepped out of the vehicle was crisp, with the feeling of lingering dew and the smell of moist earth floating on the ever-so-slight breeze. I didn't wear anything special, but my sister dressed up as a fairy. I was hoping to score some sort of accessory in the shops -- there are so many shops. There are even guys yelling at people to buy their pickles! Sometimes they'll insult folks that walk by if they don't buy a pickle, which I think is funny.
As we made our way from our chariot to the fairgrounds, we happened across all sorts of fellow fairgoers. Maidens in their corsets, knights in their armor, dragons in their scales, witches with their brooms, and suburban parents with their kids. That was more of our style. I couldn't help but tell people how cool their costumes were though, but I was always careful to use the word "outfit" instead of "costume" just in case they were coming in-character. I wouldn't want to spoil the fun!
The closer that we got to the entrance, the more clearly I could hear music. There was a man in a kilt playing a bagpipe, just as there had been in years prior. His playing certainly helps you get into the spirit of things. I stood and watched Squire Bagpipe for a minute while my dad used his connections with Lady Visa to grant us passage through the grounds. Tickets now in hand, we passed through the gates and into a land of wonderment. I could already smell the mutton and other roasted foods, but wasn't hungry yet (we had ate some homemade granola for breakfast). Our usual first stop was to the comedy show towards the front of the fair, but there wasn't a show scheduled for another half an hour, so we took some time to look at a few shops first-thing.
Incense, wax hand castings, dresses, weapons, honey sticks, crystals; so much to see, so much to buy. There wasn't anything I *needed*, but most of it fascinated me. I watched as a woman got her hand cast in the shape of a peace sign in dark blue wax. I oggled a gigantic geode at the crystal store with a price tag of well over $100. My dad and sister looked at some of the kids' clothing, but I was more interested in hats or other accessories. I think those shops were further into the fair. I don't think my sister ended up buying anything, and we eventually made our way to the bench seats in front of the comedy show a few minutes before it began.
It feels like every year there are more and more people like my family that have seen the show multiple times and already know the audience participation lines ahead of time. The actors and actresses always laugh and seem surprised, almost flattered, that we start participating before they even tell us to, and it adds to the feeling of the fair as a grand tradition that us audience members are all a part of. Even knowing most of what will happen in the show, it's still funny and exhilarating to watch. There are battles, recurring jokes, motifs, soliloquies, and plenty of gallantry to go around. So much fun! There were some jokes that I still didn't get that my parents told me I'll understand "when I'm older," but I keep getting older and the understanding doesn't come. They tell me to treasure my youth and innocence while I have it. I guess I won't be able to get the kids menu and crayons my whole life, so I typically let the issue go.
After the comedy show, we had some more time to kill before the juggling show. We walked a little deeper into the back, steering clear of the pub crawl and trying to cross the wooden bridge by another crystal shop. An ogre harassed us for making the attempt of crossing *his* bridge, and my dad dutifully paid him a pittance for our safe travel across. Those ogres sure can be nasty if you don't cooperate with them, so I'd say we dodged a bullet. We stopped to watch a glass-blower for awhile, and perused some more shops. My mom and I found a hat shop, and I was so excited! I tried on lots of different hats, and ended up finding a real cool one. It was robin's egg blue, and was triangular like a pirate hat. It had white stitching, and most importantly, a bright green feather tucked into a royal purple band. It was the coolest, most colorful hat I had ever seen!!! It was my quest that day to find such a hat, and asked my mom if I could get it. She said it was a little on the pricey side, but I begged and begged and said I would use my allowance money and savings if I had to. She consulted my dad about it, and they decided I could have it ***if*** I promised not to ask to buy anything else for the day. I agreed, and the hat was mine B^)
It didn't take long to receive a compliment for my new adornment. As we sat down for the juggling show, another kid in the row behind us told me how cool my hat was. I thanked them, and we started talking about our favorite parts of the Renaissance Festival. Their favorite parts were the joust and the roasted food, especially the roasted corn. I said mine were probably the comedy show and seeing all of the shops, but every part was fun. Except the porta-potties, those are stinky. We both laughed about that. Before we could talk too much more, the juggling show started, and we turned our attention towards that. I had seen the jugglers multiple times too, and they were always a hoot. I had tried to juggle a few times before, but it's way harder than it looks. Hopefully I'll get there someday, but in the meantime, just watching the guys at the Ren Fest is good enough for me. They juggled lots of crazy things, even swords! Towards the end of the show, like usual, they passed around a donation hat for veterans. My dad is a veteran, and I asked if we could donate $20 for their cause. "It's not asking to buy anything, just to donate. They deserve money too!" My parents couldn't argue with my magnanimity, and I proudly placed a $20 bill in the hat. Once the hat made it back to the stage, they expressed their grateful appreciation for the audience, and we all clapped. It feels good to contribute to a higher cause.
The joust was shortly after the juggling show, and we ended up getting straw bale seats instead of bench seats. That's okay though! My sister and I could both still see the jousting field, and that's what matters most. We ended up in the green corner, and I was really hoping our knight would be the winner. After some fanfare from the horns, a man in the main booth began the ceremonies. He introduced the Queen, and we of course gave the Queen much applause and respect. We wouldn't want to be beheaded, after all. God save the Queen!! After that, each knight was introduced, and we cheered loudly for our knight and booed the others. I suppose they didn't invent sportsmanship until later on, but that's just how it goes here. From there, there was a demonstration of how the jousting would go, and then it was off to the real thing! Our knight was up first against the purple knight, and after three bouts, ours knocked the purple knight off of their horse! Huzzah!! We advance to the next round. The two other knights duked it out, and the red knight was the victor. There seemed to be some tomfoolery going on with the red knight, but no matter. Our knight was obviously the best. The final round commenced, and they both knocked each other off! Our knight was the first to get up, and we roared with applause. However, the red knight got up behind him, snuck over, and bashed him in the head with his shield!! The horror! After getting stunned, our guy leapt back up, and the two competitors grappled in the dirt and horse poo for awhile. The red knight grabbed our knight's shield and bashed his head some more, and it was lights out for our guy. The Queen declared the red knight the victor, and I couldn't believe it. He showed no honor! I'd never let a knight that sleazy be a part of my round table, but I couldn't very well say that to the Queen. Different times, different priorities. Ah well.
After that disappointing jousting loss, we continued wandering the fair for some time. My dad got some mutton, which I tried and enjoyed, and my sister and I got some roasted corn and some fruit. My mom got a few pickles from the pickle guy, and he was as funny as ever. We all sat and watched the people go buy for a time, enjoying the sights and sounds of the festivities. There was more music to hear, more people to watch, and more things to see than any person would have time for in a day. Following our feast, we made a stop at Ye Olde Stinky Porta-Potties and then headed towards the back of the fairgrounds. There were a few shows that we skipped due to their "non-family-friendly" nature, and we ended up in the archery, axe-throwing, and shuriken section. My sister was still too young for any of those activities, but my mom had me try out the kids archery and the shuriken throwing. I was able to hit a couple of targets with the bow and arrow, as I had used a bow once before. That was exciting, and my mom got a few pictures of me in action. The shuriken, or ninja stars, were also fun. I had to be extra careful with those, as they're actually pretty sharp. I couldn't hit anything with them, because my arm couldn't throw far enough. It was okay though; it was just fun to try.
My dad had taken my sister to get a cool face painting of a tiger, and I was jealous. Her favorite animal and mine is the tiger. I wanted one too, but I remembered the promise I made to my parents that I wouldn't ask for anything else, and I just watched as the lady did up my sister's face. It was cool! We walked around some more after that, and saw one more show -- a sword swallower! He swallowed swords and fire and other things, and it was so cool to watch. How do these people do this? I clapped and clapped at the end of the show. My sister was getting tired around that time, and I was a little tuckered out myself. Time seems to fly at a magical pace at the Ren Fest, and you feel so immersed that you almost forget the real world that awaits outside. I made sure to take in as much as we could on our walk back towards the entrance, savoring each costume that people had, all of the smells floating around, and all of the clinky, plucky, pickley sounds that reached my ear. I knew we would be coming back another year, but I just wanted to make sure the good memories were firmly implanted in my brain. We were treated to a couple of funny outfits on people's dogs on the walk back to the parking lot, and then we were at last homeward bound in our auto-chariot. I took off my hat and looked at it for awhile on the carride, imagining all of the adventures and events I could do while wearing it. At some point I must have fell asleep, because I woke up on my dad's back as he carried me from the car to the house. We ate some leftover mushroom stew for dinner, I wrote about my day in my school journal, and then hit the sack satisfied by another great day with my family.
It's really starting to feel like autumn. The cooler morning had turned progressively warmer the other weekend when my family and I went to the Renaissance Festival, but the temperature today isn't supposed to top 63 degrees. The sassafras has been turning for weeks now, and has transitioned to mostly states of deep red with bits of yellow and orange left. The tulip trees are mostly all yellow in their leaves now, and looking out into the deep field, it seems like the hickory trees are deep into their yellow phase as well. Another autumn, here to remind us that summer doesn't last forever, and that that there is beauty to be found in the twilight years of life. Of course, most things don't die in the winter, they just go dormant. Do our t-balls go dormant in the shed? What about the t-balls in the deep field?
As I find myself enraptured by autumn and all of the imaginative avenues one can go down from such a rich matter of subject, I nearly phase out of my game-day zeal on the dugout bench. But alas, as usual, it's a "batter up!" call from my coach that zaps me out of my head and into the diamond. Time to hit one!
I perform my standard batting ritual, gripping the bat that's much cooler than it was just a month prior. The skies are bright but overcast, and the grasses had frosty dew on them mere hours ago. I focus in on the bat in my hand, the T on the home plate, and our ball on top of it. Let's get this ball outta here. *THWHACK!!!* Our ball flies up, up, up, way up in the air, as I waste no time running to first. There's always the chance that you'll get out from a pop fly, but you've gotta run anyway and just have faith in your hit. It turns out I invested my faith smartly, as no one on the opposing team is able to quite catch the ball. I narrowly make it to second before the ball makes it to third, and the runner in front of me is likewise safe. That was a solid run! Very satisfying.
Danny comes to bat, and I don't let my focus slip from the game. I'm thinking he's got this in the bag. He seems to think so too, grinning coyly while making a few practice swings at the T. Just like that *WHAM!!!!* he socks the ball hard enough to knock a kid out and makes way for first. I bolt to third, the runnner in front of me makes it home, I make it home, and Danny makes it home. Our ball, like two others this season, does not get a return throw from the deep field. A cross-county home run with three points for our team, and so early in the game! What a thing!
Three of our t-balls in the deep field; my mind reels with the potential. Two's company, three's a crowd, so they say. But something in me says that it wouldn't be like that for our t-balls. If they indeed don't hibernate or otherwise go dormant, then they end up spending the whole winter together in the shed, and in rather close quarters. I've never seen any evidence of them having fought, so it would make sense to assume that they all get along. Now, the bigger question would be how long it would take for our third t-ball to find the other two out there. Perhaps animals that have lived their whole lives in the deep field would know where our other two t-balls were, and seeing a third, would guide it to them. Surely the raccoons would be invested, being t-ball players themselves. What does a t-ball occupy itself with as summer turns to autumn turns to winter, and more and more insects and animals wind down their activities to conserve energy? Maybe they gravitate to the evergreen trees and shrubs, or spend some time in different animal burrows as entertaining guests. I would certainly invite a t-ball in for dinner if one rolled up to my door.
The game goes on, with the competition much more close this time around than other games. The other team gets a grand slam at one point, though it's due to some sloppy throwing on our part rather than our ball getting lost in the deep field. I do my best to throw and catch as well as I can, although I don't play perfectly. The other team must have done as many or more stretches as our team this morning. Good for them, I think. It can be nice to have some healthy and stimulating competition.
As we approach the bottom of the third, it's anyone's guess as to who will come out on top. Even Danny's had a hard time keeping track of how many points each team has scored. Nevertheless, we're batting, and it's now or never for us. Gerry takes his place at the plate, does a funny shuffle that looks like he's getting a wedgie unstuck, and very quickly *SMACK*s the ball. It's a grounder, fast and dirty, and he books it for first. The urgent nature of a grounder perhaps played into Gerry's calculations, as it certainly gave a pep in the step of the third-base runner. A more-or-less guaranteed point, and she did indeed make it home. Gerry stuck fast to first, as the second baseman got that grounder real quick. We're all sweating bullets now, sitting anxiously on the edge of the dugout bench to see how the rest of it all goes down.
Another hit for us, another base progression. We play it safe. One more time, success. The bases are loaded, and the next hit could bring it all home. I would be next to bat, but I don't want to chase glory at the expense of victory -- I switch with Danny to go for the more surefire win. Danny recognizes the importance of this final hit, but doesn't succumb to the pressure. His posture is proud and defiant as he approaches the T, and after his battling ritual is complete, I see him take a deep breath in and out. He's getting in the zone. We all await with bated breath, attentions locked completely on our star driver and his impending swing. Time slows, sounds stop, and everything becomes molasses. An eternity passes in that small moment: a t-ball time paradox. Danny seems to be so still as to never move a muscle again, but as sure as that feels, his spiral all at one uncoils, building up as much momentum as a t-baller can muster to *BAM!!!!!!!!!!!* drive that ball farther than anyone could have thought possible!! No question, that one's a grand slam. The deep field has found its second new resident in the same day. I watch and cheer and scream as my team makes its grand procession through the bases, charged with a victorious zeal that had never reached such heights in our history. One, two, three points down, and what a sound from the stands! The parents are just as fired up as we are, even the parents of the opposing team. It's a moment of t-ball transcendance that everyone can appreciate. To top it off with a most delectable cherry, Danny performs his most over-the-top backwards slide into home that I've seen yet, and its whoops and hollers and high-fives all around. There are a few more hits before the game ends, including another one from myself, but I suppose it's just going through the motions -- we're tuned into Cloud Nine, not the dust clouds.
It's my family's turn to bring snacks for the team, and we end the game with some delicious homemade applesauce. It's my mom's special recipe, made with local apples, homegrown spicebush berries, and a dash of star anise. Mm-mm-mmm! Not every kid enjoys it, as it's certainly a departure from Mott's, but it's one of my favorites for sure. Unfortunately, Mr. Leo's pizza place is doing its yearly deep-clean today, so we couldn't hear Danny's epic recounting of this most epic of games over dinner. But! There is another thing to look forward to -- today is the day that my family and I are foraging the woods in the deep field! My dad did some recon this morning to make sure things were ready to be harvested, and they sure are! I hang around and talk with my teammates until the last one leaves, and then hop into our van to change into my foraging gear.