It was a pretty strenuous weekend, by my effete standards, but I made it through to the safe haven of another work week. The continuing theme was rain: I feared it; I expected it. I was pleasantly surprised.

Friday morning I drove down Highway 35 to Story City, Iowa (which, if you’ve been reading for a while, you may recall is the birthplace of my sainted grandmother) for the Scandinavian Days festival. I was representing the Viking Age Club & Society all by myself this year, with Sam the Viking, who owns the Viking boat, up from Missouri to keep me company. Here’s our camp.

Friday was pretty quiet. We talked, and I got to know Sam a little better, discovering (as is so often the case, to my shame) that I’d misjudged him on some things. I think we’re friends now, though I’m reluctant to throw heavy words like that around prematurely.

The weather forecast called for thunderstorms overnight, so I tore down my sun shade so it wouldn’t get rained on, forcing me to drive home with a car full of wet canvas.

The next morning looked threatening, so I went into the Sons of Norway hall (site of our camp) and tried to wangle a space to set up inside. Nobody seemed eager to yield any, so I dawdled. Eventually the sky cleared, and I rashly decided to put the sun shade up again. Soon the clouds were back (along with Sam, who’d been towing his boat in the parade). But it didn’t actually rain on me, and I was able to put dry canvas away when I tore down that afternoon and headed home.



Everybody wants to be a Viking!

Traffic wasn’t great to our camp, but in spite of that I was happy with the number of books I sold. Story City was notable for the number of knowledgeable people (as opposed to opinionated cranks, a very different species, happily absent) who came by, and the intelligent questions asked by the less knowledgeable. I always enjoy Story City, and not just because it makes me feel close to Grandma.

I left my Viking impedimenta in my car that night, and drove over to Danebo Hall in Minneapolis for Danish Day on Sunday. The forecast called for rain showers in the morning, and thunder showers in the afternoon. Nevertheless I set up the awning again, because it’s better to get my canvas wet than my books. They’re doing construction at Danebo this year, which meant we had to carry our stuff further than usual. I find, to my amazement, that I seem to have the most junk of anybody in the group, although I don’t even own a proper Viking tent.

Ragnar spreads enlightenment among the Danes

We did some fighting, and I won a little more than half the fights, I think. Largely because Ragnar is out of action, pending a hip replacement. Eric, his son, is as nothing before my prowess (yes, Eric, I’m talking about you!).

Nice people at Danish Day, and we may have attracted a couple new recruits. But I only sold one book.

Still, it didn’t rain. That’s what really matters.