What to say about this? A party to end all parties.

There are times when I wish I could send y'all tickets to my little village just so you could see and feel and hear the goodness that is this place.

Any given day this community is buzzing with the business of agriculture and with the gentle tourism of cyclists and wine country sightseers. But this weekend the gravel in front of the school was crunching well past dark with the comings and goings of country folk out for a fine time.

The gym floor during the Spring Fling was a great spot for Sal to practice his steps.

The booths at the utterly charming homemade carnival were great spots for the girls to spend a few quarters.

The little red school on the hill celebrated what may be its last ever Spring Fling. My dear friend Jayme painted faces. I do love her. And so do my kids! (Don't tell the other face painter but my oldest girls were letting people cut them in line to ensure they were decorated by the talented and lovely J.)

The evening glowed.

A Louisiana fiddler played while the crocodiles danced. Little Laura, sans croc hat, was the belle of the ball. She must have danced with half the county, filling her dance card with patented three-year-old insistence and confidence.

Gracie and a slew of other cuties went fishing without state licenses. (Grace is painted as "the night sky." You can't see but there's a star on one cheek. Very cheeky. And dramatic. Just like the girl. Nevermind that it looks a bit like she's painted as a chimney sweep with five o'clock shadow. Our other great neighbor Kyle painted Grace's face and she loved it.)

Some brave children even held alligators and snakes and turtles, oh my. (Petting zoos in our neck of the woods apparently can't bring your standard miniature goats and flop-eared bunnies because most farm kids wake up early to feed their own fuzzy livestock.)

If you don't want to move to the country, if you shudder to think of the early rising and the crowing roosters and the nine months of mud and three of baked clay soil, if any of that seems too much, consider a true country fair at a tiny school in the middle of farm and ranch land. Come visit. I promise you'll be charmed. And I'll keep the reptiles at bay.