I'm dreaming of a white RenFaire...

Scarborough opened on Saturday to beautiful, cold snow flurries. Heavy, wet stars of snow fell upon our picturesque village, and made for a delightful day. All the enthusiasts made for a good energy start, until five hours of cold and snow finally wore down their enthusiasm, and everyone was cleared out by 3 or 4 o'clock. Still, all the workers got paid, even if the owners and managers didn't, which is more than can be said for some days.

In other faire magic news:

I was almost run over by royalty towards the end of Arizona. I was sitting in the grass, absorbed by the morning court dance, when one young princess and two younger princes came chasing each other, pell-mell. I was a huge awkward mess of knees and skirts as I tried to show proper homage to their highnesses while simultaneously trying to avoid being barreled over by a trio of excitable five-to-eight-year-olds.

I was danced out of my clothing on Saturday! While I will freely admit my tendancies along those lines, what makes it remarkable was the setting: The Evening Court Dance of Scarborough faire, smack dab in the middle of the Spagnoletta. As I was walking about the window with my second partner, I looked down to see my bodice unlaced and half-undone! Thankfully, I was able to preserve modesty with my cloak, though it did make left-handed pavannes and windows rather interesting. Congratulations to Sir Richard; may he live to dance many more damsels out of their dress!