At the Fair

Another Southern California summer shades imperceptively into autumn. Pomona,  Roman goddess of fruits and vines, emerges from her slumber, drawn to the Fairplex grounds by the scent of deep-fried avacados, where she mingles with the other ghosts of L.A.'s lost farms for three weeks before returning to her subdivided grave. It's time for that ritual of bygone harvests; that spectacle of mass walking, shopping, gawking, and eating: the Los Angeles County Fair.

I visited two weeks ago. If you hurry, so can you; the fair's still open through Sunday.

In the early years of the 20th century, Los Angeles county was one of, if not the most, productive agricultural regions in the country. Today it doesn't even rank in the top 20 ag counties in California. Our leading agricultural product, ornamental trees and shrubs, don't exactly scream out 'we feed the world.' There is still potential for farming in and around L.A. though urban gardens and farms, remaining edge agricultural land, increasing emphasis on organic and niche crops, growing ranks of immigrant farmers, but that's another story for another day. The one condolence is that I didn't go to the main livestock buildings this year so I missed the scattered propaganda for factory farm livestock techniques.  Our favorite fair attractions are the table setting competition (especially the brutal point mark downs by the judges); wine tastings (the owner of one of the few surviving Rancho Cucamunga vinyards co-hosted the session we attended), and baby animals.