Squelch

Well, it's definitely Fall!

I never quite know what to expect with Corvallis Fall Festival. Sometimes it's gorgeous and sunny, sometimes showery, occasionally smoky. To me it always feels like the last show of the summer, despite the name. I associate outdoor art fairs with the summertime; fall shows are indoors, like Clay Fest, Clayfolk, or Holiday Market.

I thought we'd be okay, at first. We loaded in dry on Friday, though it was gusty and cloudy, and we didn't put anything on the top shelves until Saturday morning. It rained hard overnight, but we were sheltered by a big oak tree, and the ground in our part of the park was firmer and dryer than in the other loops, so we weren't sinking into the mud like last year.

Saturday was intermittently cloudy, with a long shower around 5 pm, but dry again when we closed at 6. Sales were pretty good, though I had a card processed offline that was later declined, so I'm out that purchase with no way to get in touch with the customer. (Thanks, Square!) Hopefully, they'll notice when it doesn't show up on their bill and get in touch to make it right, but if not, I'll get to use the "Bad debt" line on my Schedule C next year.

Sunday dawned cold but partly sunny, with an empty space next to our booth: One of our neighbors decided she didn't want to risk her silk scarves getting wet, so packed up and left before we arrived. It looked like she'd misjudged, as it slowly got warmer and nicer as the day progressed. The predicted afternoon rain continued not to appear, customers were out en masse, and we even sold a couple of hundred dollars better than Saturday.

The show closed at 5 pm, and the clouds finally closed in as well. We stayed dry until the pottery boxes were all pretty much packed, but it started to rain as I brought my van back to the park. Even then, I thought we'd be okay, as the rain was light, and the walkway behind our booth was protected by trees.

I was wrong.

It opened up just as I parked, and I carried boxes to the van in a downpour while Denise put away stands and took apart shelves under the canopy. My hat soaked through, my raincoat was sodden, my shoes and socks squelched with every step. We usually celebrate the end of a show with dinner out. This time, we just drove home and ate leftovers in dry sweat pants.