't Was June...

And the buttercups are blooming full swing. A good thing, as buttercups and gypsie horses are a good match. I feel the vibe. It’s the beginning of June, and I know that soon the bow wagons will appear, and the nasty car drivers. Who get frustrated being stuck behind a bow wagon.

Not me sir, I love to be stuck behind a bow wagon, it tells me that the gypsies are back. Like the seasons, they keep coming. Every year.
And I LOVE it.

I get very very exited when I see the signs appear. A horse drawn carrariage, one man on the carriage, the horse nicely trippling...

The electric warning signs appear on the side of the A66. The direct route from the A1 at Scottish Corner to Brough-Appleby, where the big annual meeting of the English and Irish gypsies takes place. That is why on the first of June this year, I leave home to go North, to Appleby, to put my books to sell in the Tourist Office, and hoping to meet some early birds, already settled in town. I have no idea that for the first time the gypsies are not allowed in town before the 4th of June, the official date of the starting of the fair.
It is the Big Gypsy Horse Fair.

The A66 gives me splendid views over the surrounding moors. Hills and valleys, carved with little roads. Bordered with the familiar stone walls, stretching as far as the eye can see.

It is a huge surprise to suddenly detect the first travellers, camping on side verges as the town center for now is no-no.
Fair Hill will open on thursday, and it is monday. For 3 days, the tiny roads all around Appleby will be jampacked with caravans and bow wagons, in no particular order, till they get permission to go through town up to Fair Hill. The big meadow becoming a camp for a week.

I spot the first bow wagons, with the typical green cloth for cover, the little steps attached so one can go in and out.

A small gypsie boy, I love the kids. They are so confident, ready to tell you what they did today. This one has no idea how I know that he has been painting.
Finger painting. With blue and red. His eyes go wide open when I tell him that he used those two colours. The innocence of small children. There is as much paint on his face as on his hands. Funny.

Across the road a family with bigger kids, the same confidence. Open looks, curious towards non-gypsies. Friendly and social. I do not get why some narrowminded folks hate gypsies and their lifestyle. I have met many over the seven years that I have been visiting Appleby, and I never had an unfriendly remark. They share life and goods with me, tell me their tales, the adventures. Their life often littered with racism sprouting here and there.

A very traditional kind of people, tradition is everything, I am proud if they confide in me, if they ask me if I want to take their photograph. Sure, that is why I came.
To listen and see. Look and see. Taking in.

The travellers are all about family. The highest tradition of all. Family is what counts, and they take care of each other. We non travellers could learn from them.
Their life on the road in small moving housing conditions makes them a tight community. Where parents and kids live close together.

On this gorgeous sunny day the family mothers gather, telling each other about the past year, catching up on tales. The lady on the right in the above picture has been coming to Appleby for 63 years. First with her parents and grand parents, now being a grand parent herself. I will meet her husband a couple of minutes later, he is talking to the pot and pans guy.

Gypsies are good craftsmen. They know their profession, and are proud to deliver products that can keep up with a hard life on the road. In all weather conditions.
Small camp fires demand old fashioned cooking ware, and that is what this black smith is known for.

The earlier mentioned hubby is here, I do not understand a word they say, the conversation is in Gaelic, some kind of old English, mixed with gypsie sayings, not translatable if you have not been growing up with the language.

The horses, the horses. Vanners, the breed gypsies are famous for. Elegant animals, with sturdy paws. Bred to pull the bow wagons, sharing a life on the road with their masters.
They seem to be happy to trot in the beautiful rural landscape, pulling whatever they are made to pull. Greeting other horses on the road with a loud hinny.

And I meet up with two gorgeous little girls, sisters. Very alike, no twins. I really care for the gypsie kids. They have an outspoken innocence, not messed up like a lot of non gypsie kids. Their world is what is outside the caravan, on site where their parents took them. No electric games, maybe a small television. The kids enjoy being together with other kids, playing with what nature gives them. A little creek a bit further down the road is their swimming pool on this hot summers day.
I promise them that they will be in my book next year, and they smile.

The sisters are very girlie, the brothers very boy-ish. Posing for the camera, I do not instruct them, they pick their own pose, that is how they want to appear in the book.
Their mom is watching it all with proud glances. I want to stay longer, but have to get to the Tourist office, to drop off the books. So I greet all and go on my way.
The sun is scorching. I am confident that this year’s gypsie fair will be a blast again. Yeay...

I feel totally lucky that I am able to see them every year, and spend time with them. My camera breaks the ice, and year after year I meet the same people, see the kids grow up.
They are starting to know me. Not a year too soon I think. It will be my seventh gypsie fair. Wowsie... Let the horses trot...

Comments

[mollie]

so beautiful!! a way of life so far from what we know, yet simplistically lovely...

always gorgeous kids... :))))

[Sarah]

Love the children shots, the last two are my favorite. The gypsies around here are almost gone. Well I am not sure there are many in Texas. In alabama where I spent my youth there are a few and they are hated also. Most do palm readings and such and people think they are taking their money. Funny if you ask me. Why go if you think it is a waste of money. How can someone take from you or rather steal when you hand it over. My father had friends from every walk of life. He was a good man and judged no one. I am lucky that I was exposed to so many cultures because of him!