Observation Narrative
Days of Old When Knights Were Bold
Growing up, I was never that girl that fantasized about becoming a princess and meeting that special prince that would sweep me off my feet and save me from all misery. Even sorcery books such as the Harry Potter series did not appeal to me. I did not believe in any of that quirky fantasy land stuff so the idea of being dragged to the Michigan Renaissance Festival with my family over Labor Day weekend did not appeal to me; I would have much rather been out having fun in the sun barbequing with friends just as any other American typically celebrates the holiday. Staring out the car window all I saw was cornfields and the occasional Ma and Pa family owned restaurant or ice cream parlor. Mt. Holly came into view a little further down the road, but the slopes were dry and scarce due to it being summer. Tucked behind all the forestation was a small fairground where police orderly directed cars into the lot. The parking lot, overwhelmingly large in size, branched in two directions. One led to a general area and the other took cars single file down a long and winding path. This brought butterflies to my stomach. License plates were country wide varying from fellow Michiganders to visiting guests from neighboring states such as Indiana and Ohio and some traveling from as far away as Florida or Kansas. Once we secured our designated spot and our legs were fully stretched after sitting stationary for the hour drive we merged with the herd of people and marched together through the forest to discover this new unknown world.
The walk was a journey in itself. The weeds in the wasteland of the parking lot stood knee high and tickled my leg with every movement. There appeared to be no end in sight as it was at least a mile long containing various obstacles such as logs barricading the path and bridges. Surprisingly there were no mosquitoes but the sound of the crickets chirping and the leaves crinkling all echoed loudly. I
Growing up, I was never that girl that fantasized about becoming a princess and meeting that special prince that would sweep me off my feet and save me from all misery. Even sorcery books such as the Harry Potter series did not appeal to me. I did not believe in any of that quirky fantasy land stuff so the idea of being dragged to the Michigan Renaissance Festival with my family over Labor Day weekend did not appeal to me; I would have much rather been out having fun in the sun barbequing with friends just as any other American typically celebrates the holiday. Staring out the car window all I saw was cornfields and the occasional Ma and Pa family owned restaurant or ice cream parlor. Mt. Holly came into view a little further down the road, but the slopes were dry and scarce due to it being summer. Tucked behind all the forestation was a small fairground where police orderly directed cars into the lot. The parking lot, overwhelmingly large in size, branched in two directions. One led to a general area and the other took cars single file down a long and winding path. This brought butterflies to my stomach. License plates were country wide varying from fellow Michiganders to visiting guests from neighboring states such as Indiana and Ohio and some traveling from as far away as Florida or Kansas. Once we secured our designated spot and our legs were fully stretched after sitting stationary for the hour drive we merged with the herd of people and marched together through the forest to discover this new unknown world.
The walk was a journey in itself. The weeds in the wasteland of the parking lot stood knee high and tickled my leg with every movement. There appeared to be no end in sight as it was at least a mile long containing various obstacles such as logs barricading the path and bridges. Surprisingly there were no mosquitoes but the sound of the crickets chirping and the leaves crinkling all echoed loudly. I