The Bluemont Fair and a Bee

Bob and I went out to the Bluemont Fair this past Sunday to enjoy some time together, shop a little, and eat some great barbeque.
Shopping included:
Handmade goods - however - at 50 neither of us needs anything...
rummaging through the Antiques area - much smaller than when I did the fair 15+ years ago,
into the E.E.Lake General Store for Baked Goods - Bob always needs baked goods...
trying to buy some Local Honey - fail - too many people taste testing
the Plant Shed - hey I need new Lavender Plants!
and the Round Hill United Methodist Church for lunch.

What we found:  Bob picked up these two Almanacs for $5.00 each - one is from 1935, the other from 1942.  How cool is that?

 OKAY - I was really good and didn't look at any jewelry - until I saw the $1.00 basket.  I found a stunner buckle with rhinestones and pearls, a red, white and blue arrow pin, a leaf and pearl choker, and two pieces I will take apart for my making my new line of bracelets 'Betty Ann's Jewel Box Bracelets'.


Lunch from RHUMC was delicious as usual - North Carolina (my Fav) barbeque on a bun, coleslaw, baked beans, and apple crisp, and a water.  This is where the Bee comes in...  I was enjoying the apple crisp when this little fellow flies up and says"I wants me some!"  I shoo him away - and in the shooing - the air current knocks him right down into the syrupy morass.  
UGH!  There are only a VERY few bugs I kill - these little guys are not on the list!  I fish him out, put him into one of the other compartments on my 'dish' and put a little water on him, trying not to drown the little guy.  His antennae curl up, his legs curl up, Bob says "He's dead".  I think maybe he is just trying to recover...and hope.  We gather our trash, I close the bee up safely in a napkin and we go back to the truck.  I leave him laying on the napkin, on the seat, in the sun.  Bob says "He's dead".  On our drive home - Bob says  many times "He's dead".  
We drive to Purcellville to see if anything is happening with my new intsallation of vintage jewelry at It's Bazaar.  Back at the truck, Mr. Bee is still curled up and still.  Bob says "He's dead".  I keep hoping...  We discuss what we are going to do the rest of the day, if we are eating dinner (ok - if I am eating dinner - and what I am making for Bob).  
As we pull up into the drive, I look down and what do I see?  Mr. Bee - moving. :)  I exclaim "He's alive"!  Bob is amazed.  Mr Bee is shaking his wings dry, stumbling around a little and getting his bearings.  I am happy.  I wrap him up in the napkin, carry him to the garden and weight down the napkin so he can hide underneath and recover.  My little victory :))