The Durham Fair

In 1916, Durham's first fair was held on the town green. There has been a fair in the town almost every year since. (The few exceptions were due to the 1938 Great New England Hurricane and World War II.) 100 years later, the Durham Fair is the largest agricultural fair in Connecticut.

Last weekend, I ventured to Durham to see what that might entail. Though bigger than the one similar fair I've been to (Woodstock, way back in 2010 when I still had tiny blog photos), the Durham Fair was manageable; you can easily walk through the fairgrounds and see most of the exhibits in a couple hours. (It would take longer, obviously, if you went on rides, stopped to watch any of the scheduled shows, or crammed so much fried dough into your face that you had to rest and recover.) The parking situation is a bit confusing - there are many lots, at various distances from the fairgrounds, charging different prices. Free shuttle service is provided at some of the more distant lots, but I was happy to pay $10 to park behind the Durham Fire Department on Main Street, a few blocks from the entrance.

The Durham Fair is advertised as "Good. Clean. Wholesome. Fun." which I think means you're supposed to bring your kids. Having no kids, I brought my mom, who did say the experience reminded her of being a kid at the Calgary Stampede, eating corn and candy apples, and buying magic wands and kewpie dolls.

Not being into rides or fair food (though it all smelled delicious; I probably inhaled 6,000 calories worth of doughnuts, kettle corn, and fries just walking past the dozens of vendors), my favorite part of the Durham Fair was the animals. Even for grown adults, there's just something undeniably fun about getting a close-up look at so many different breeds of rabbits, birds, cows, and llamas. Sadly, we managed to miss most of the goats and sheep; their section appeared to be roped off  when we passed through. Still, there were giant pumpkins and vintage farm equipment (both surprisingly interesting) and prize-winning tomatoes and pies (not particularly interesting, yet hilarious nonetheless.) There was also a tent full of crafty items for sale, and there was wine, which I ignored but would have very much enjoyed tasting if I hadn't had to be awake enough to drive back to New London afterwards.

Oh, and of course there's the other, very important thing the Durham Fair offers, free with the price of admission: photo ops.

Knock Knock

This schoolhouse in Durham is right behind the Sabbath Day House I went crazy for in February of 2013.

The 18th century school is now the home of the Durham Historical Society, whose website makes clear in what may be the most Connecticut-y sentence ever written that "The Durham Historical Society is not affiliated with the Durham Historic District Commission." Glad they cleared that up.

The first few times I saw this school, I basically ignored it. Though older than many others around the state, it was too big to really catch my attention the way the pocket-sized schools do. Plus I never want to spend too much time hanging around this area, because Durham (like Bethel) is a head-swivel town. You know that "You're not from here" head swivel. I don't know how they do it; I can't tell if someone's not from here unless they're, say, wearing a giant cowboy hat or trying to hail a cab in the middle of Pomfret.

Anyway, I should have paid more attention to this school earlier, because what it lacks in cuteness, it makes up for in doors.

I love the look of these double doors, crowded close together, painted red and adorned with stars.

And the flowers are a nice touch.

I also like that even the outbuilding gets a star. Not a big gold star, but a little honorable mention, consolation prize, at least you tried type of star.

Sabbath Day House

There are many buildings worth stopping to stare at in Durham's Main Street Historic District. But I inexplicably honed in on this one. Located between the Town Hall and the Historical Society, I thought at first that it might be some sort of shabby chic storage shed. (Five times fast, try it.) But it's not; it's a Sabbath Day House.

A what now? Here's the dictionary definition:

A house formerly built (as in colonial Connecticut) near a church and heated on winter Sundays as a place for worshipers living at a distance to warm themselves and eat between morning and afternoon services in an unheated church.

This one was built around 1780, and was rescued from a planned burning (!) in the 1960s. There were other Sabbath Day Houses, built around the Durham Green starting in the 1720s, by town vote. This is the only one left.

You wouldn't know it from this blog, but some of my favorite eras of history date to long before the advent of Connecticut. When I read about them, I often think that a) people are people, and always have been, but b) people in other times and places are capable of coming up with things so seemingly bizarre that we can't fully comprehend them, so we shouldn't be so arrogant as to believe we can. A Sabbath Day House is not bizarre, of course, it's perfectly logical. But I love this little building because it's a reminder of how those early New Englanders' lives were like ours (who wants to be cold?) and yet, at the same time, very much not.

Oh, and Durham also has what might be the best town seal in Connecticut. Cow!