Local furniture maker Tom McLaughlin teaches Benjamin Preisendorfer, 5, how to use a spoke shaver at the Canterbury Fair. Credit: Abby DiSalvo / Monitor staff

The last Saturday of July always draws a crowd in Canterbury.

For 67 years, tradition has staked its claim on every aspect of the town fair. Wafts of freshly-smoked meat beckoned visitors inside the Parish House to the Canterbury Fair’s famous chicken barbecue. The hum of frappe machines joined the rhythm of Morris dancers. A yellow school bus ferried people from the town center to the elementary school, where antiques awaited new homes at the annual What-Not sale.

“We are a town that loves to gather, and Canterbury Fair is the gathering day,” said decades-long resident Lisa Carlson, one of the fair’s organizers. “It’s just the spirit of community. If we’re not helping to put the fair on, we’re coming to enjoy seeing friends and neighbors.”

What started as a simple church fundraiser in 1959 has transformed into a bustling community celebration. All proceeds benefit the Canterbury Fund, which supports local students and families. Volunteers, all of whom marked this date on their calendars months ago, return year after year to run the “old-fashioned country fair.”

Standing in the shade of the frappe stand, Steve Fifield worked with his wife and daughter. The whole family wore flamboyant tea hats purchased from the What-Not sale, scooping ice cream and pumping syrup to keep up with a constant stream of orders. Their secret recipe has been a staple of the Canterbury Fair since its beginning. Over the course of the day-long fair, they went through close to 30 gallons of milk and 35 vats of ice cream.

“It’s a family affair,” Fifield said of the frappe stand. “Family sets it up. Family runs it.”

Across the square, Debbie Snow surveyed the fair from her bake sale post. She and half a dozen other women had prepared by baking Shaker hand pies for months. They perfected the routine, meeting in the Parish House to roll dough, scoop filling and freeze pastries. 

The fruits of their labor lay folded in pockets of warm sugar-washed crust. Three hundred apple, peach, blueberry and strawberry pies had already sold by noontime — the last quarter of stock tempted visitors from atop a folding table.

Behind the Canterbury Parish House, five-year-old Benjamin Priesendorfer wielded a spoke shaver with confidence, smoothing the corners on a stick of wood. His older brother Lukas worked a hand-powered lathe nearby. Furniture maker Tom McLaughlin guided them with the tools, then stepped back to observe their creativity.

“It’s amazing to see how natural they are, how quickly they take to the cutting, faster than adults sometimes,” McLaughlin said. “We’re introducing them to the real world and not screens.”

He has lived in Canterbury for 28 years, long enough to know the fair as a staple of his community. Still, he joked that he’s “new to town.” 

Up on the hill, tucked away inside the elementary school gymnasium, Jayne Hastings maneuvered through the folding tables stacked high with What-Not goods. It took seven days to unpack and reprice the amalgamation of donated cookware, glassware, picture frames, camping equipment, stuffed toys and holiday decor. Eager visitors combed through the offerings, stacking baskets and cardboard boxes high with new treasures. 

Further down the lawn, five-year-old Oliver Travis licked strawberry ice cream off a green spoon. His father, Ben, used to volunteer at the dunk tank and the frappe stand. His grandmother Brenda still helps at the bake sale. 

Though the father and son now live in Maynard, Mass., they make the 90-minute drive up to the fair every year. 

“It’s a good excuse to come back to town and see all the different arts and crafts. It feels like home,” the elder Travis said. “I always used to grow up looking forward to the fair.”

Oliver, who has never missed a fair in his life, smiled as Jessie Tichko looped by with her traveling bake sale, dishing out hand pies to hungry visitors and vendors. She plopped a vanilla cupcake down on the red picnic table in front of Oliver.

But it’s Carlson who summed up the scene as she drove around the fair in her golf cart.

“It’s the best day of the year,” she said.

Abby DiSalvo can be reached at adisalvo@cmonitor.com