Language, I love it, but it is of the air
and we are of the earth.
—Ada Limón
The day after the County Fair closed, strolling through the fairgrounds. A side-trip on this mystery called Life, to the eerily vacant exhibit hall. This way-seeking fellow arrives to the tables array, the Baked Goods display.
Discovering the absolute presence of the individual baked good, each hand-crafted with memory and care. Conveyed to the Fair, carried by hand, by the desire to show, to share. Beyond food items: a deep nostalgia, a love, a gift, a letting loss. The warmth of the kitchen, the oven, a soft aroma upon delivery continuing to infuse senses.
The judges taste and consider, view texture, appearance, in devotion to the awarding of ribbons. As memory and desire float among the samplings.
Now the day, after after a week in the hall, baked goods desiccated, some slightly molding, to tossed in a bin. The weight of presentation. As these photos become evidence, fossilized, endless seasons of baking will continue as long as there are humans at the hearth.
CODA
The supervisor of the Baked Goods area, the sole person present this morning, spoke of her memories of growing up in the rural town of Drain when the summer fair was a highlight of the year.
So, to witness the doubling of a life.
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