they thought we were craft pirates

Sunday, we drove into the mountains, to a town called Ramona. Knowing nothing, but thinking of Beverly Cleary, I hoped to find something charming or funny or possibly both. I had my camera, and Trent his notebook. We were out to capture our take on the town.

Leading the way into town were signs for a 'craft and antique faire.' These were pink signs along the main road, leading towards a dusty, dry parking lot with a trickle of white topped booths winding alongside of highschool sportfields. My camera hanging around my neck, Trent with his notebook and pen tucked under his arm, we walked in. The crafts tickled me, particularly because there were loads of references to snow, snowmen, the cold weather, and sweaters to keep warm on those chilly christmas eves. There was an entire basket to 'Let it Snow' pillows against the backdrop of the southern California desert, which brought my lens up to my eye. But I was stopped by an older gentleman who asked me not to take any pictures. I was surprised, but conceded and kept walking.

I'll try shooting from the hip, then, since it is a rangefinder. But then I was stopped again, and told to put my camera back inthe car, this time by a firmer speaking younger woman. I turned my camera around so that the lens faced my chest. That should do it, right?

She followed me to where Trent was seated, writing in his notebook. "The crafters want to know what you are sketching," she said. In typcial Trent response he flashed his notebook, "Does this look like a sketch to you?" She then escorted us out of the faire. and watched us walk to the car.

It was rather stunning, being accused to craft piracy. It's not often in my life that someone thinks the worst of me withoit cause. I was confused and a little angry, but I can only assume that these crafters have been burned before. And Trent and I certainly did not blend into the other shoppers.

We went on our way, stopping to give some pets to a foal and her mom. We had to get out of Ramona, and drove for what seemed forever to find a state park to have our picnic. We found instead a 'Recreation Area,' and so we parked next to the No Parking sign, along side the fence overlooking the man-made Lake Jennings, and had our picnic in the car. We digested our new roles in craft faire espionage whilst enjoying the stunning and sweeping view of a fenced-in false lake, ridged by track homes and ringed by hills topped with water towers.