Ready for Take-Off, this angel baby pooch stops to pose before marching on in the Harvest Festival Pet Parade, photos © 2008 by ybonesy. All rights reserved.
Every year in early fall, our little village holds a Harvest Festival. This used to be a farming community, and although many fields have turned into big houses with lawns, you can still find acres of apple orchards and corn and chile crops. Not to mention the good-sized gardens and non-commercial farms that produce a bounty of fruits and vegetables. It’s definitely a time to celebrate.
My favorite part of the Harvest Festival, hands down, is the Pet Parade. The first year Jim and I moved here, we heard that the festival always kicked off with a parade for pets down the main road in the village. I’d never been in a parade before, and something inside me was hankering to walk with our dog, Roger, as observers lining the street cheered and clapped wildly.
I tied a red paisley handkerchief around Roger’s neck and headed to the staging area where parade participants were gathering with dogs, cats, goats, chickens, turkeys, and horses.
Roger, of course, was chomping at the bit. This was the most exciting thing to happen in his life, too. He pulled me from one animal to another, sniffing the spray paint on their coats and their silly wigs, hats, tu-tus, flower arrangements, polka dots, shoes, and tuxedos. Clearly, Roger was underdressed, and I towered two feet above the tallest human participant.
Still, we marched. We smiled and waved. We posed when Jim snapped our photo and then watched him stagger off holding his stomach from laughing so hard.
Nowadays, entire families march in the Pet Parade. This year there was a “wench wagon” with showgirls dressed in velvet corsets sitting in a horse-drawn carriage. (Forget the kids and pets, I’m taking my bosom to the parade!)
There’s still the odd assortment of animals. One year I saw an iguana in its glass terrarium atop a chariot, looking like Cleopatra. This year my favorite was the Chicken-Mobile (a chicken perched on a Playskool car) and the weiner taco (weiner dog in a taco shell). The goat in a straw hat was a stand-out, too.
After the parade everyone scattered for other parts of the festival. Some headed to the food court—all that clapping worked up an appetite for turkey legs and Indian tacos—while others jumped on hay wagons heading in the direction of the three-mile-long corn maze.
We made our way to the Old Church and Casa San Ysidro, where we bought tamales and burritos from a woman who scooped extra ladles of red chile meat onto your plate if you asked.
We took our food to a bench under an old quince tree and talked about how cool it would have been to take Azul and the Toms, or Sony, Otis, Rafael, or even Baby to the Pet Parade.
There was a time when I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. Maybe next year.
the spotted horse and goat are priceless 🙂
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Yeah, Pippi was adorable on her horse. That goat was so friendly, too. Didn’t even try to eat my camera. 8)
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I like the little dachshund taco. Thanks for this post, you’re right, we do need some levity. The idea of you walking Roger with all kids alongside you is very funny, as well as the thought of how excited you both were. Fun stuff, yb.
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Thanks, Christine. That little weiner taco was adorable.
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What a wonderful idea! This says a lot about the energies of your little village…it has a big heart!
The wench wagon idea is funny..I guess bosoms are pets for some people? hee, hee
I think I would like your village YB! 🙂
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This is a really fun post. Cracked me up. Is this the ultimate in anthropomorphizing pets? And what’s with the wenchmobile? Isn’t it strange how in most parades, everyone finds a way to participate, regardless of theme.
Loved this:
This year there was a “wench wagon” with showgirls dressed in velvet corsets sitting in a horse-drawn carriage. (Forget the kids and pets, I’m taking my bosom to the parade!)
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Yeah, I think it is the ultimate, QM. There was one standard poodle wearing a diaper and baby clothing. Poor guy. I felt kind of bad for him, although I bet even when wearing diapers it’s pretty fun for them to get out like that.
Yeah, the wenchmobile was from a local restaurant that is owned by Brits. Great humor.
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ybonesy, can you remind me — what’s a quince tree. I can totally see Sony prancing along in one of these parades. Or one of your turkeys. I wonder how they would do. The Cleopatra iguana in its glass terrarium atop a chariot is pretty cool. Iguanas are so prehistoric looking.
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It’s an Old World type of fruit, very bitter and not something you would eat raw. It resembles a pear in color and partly in shape, although more round. It’s wonderful when baked. Mostly it’s recognizable, to me anyway, as a type of fruit tree that is very old and associated with a certain era in New Mexico.
Let’s see, here’s a good link on quince that talks about it’s “heirloom” heritage (LINK) (and I think no matter where it is—in the South, Southwest, Cape Cod, etc.—it is an Old World tree, but I don’t know that for sure).
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Ah, thanks for the link on the quince tree. Good article. I guess I’ve probably seen one but not known what it was. The fruit does look like pears, doesn’t it?
These lines surprised me:
One source states that in the early 1900’s most farmsteads in our country had at least one quince tree.
Part of its beauty comes as the tree ages and develops very attractive exfoliating (peeling) bark similar to that of some crepe myrtle trees.
I was especially interested in the crepe myrtle reference because I learned a lot about them in my travels in Georgia the last two summers. One of the oldest crepe myrtles in the region is in Magnolia Cemetery where some of my ancestors are buried. And the bark on the older ones is really amazing.
I didn’t know the quince grew in the South. Thanks for the link. I learned a lot!
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You bet. The tree is very beautiful. It is compact and reminds me of the olive tree or apple, plum or any tree that you associate with old gardens (as opposed to old forests).
For a couple of years when we sold at Growers Market, this lady would bring us big beautiful quince from her tree. We didn’t know how to make preserves (they’re supposed to be good for that) but she told us to try baking them. They turn a beautiful light rose color, and the flesh becomes kind of translucent like quartz. They’re heavenly baked.
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