The Celtic Winter Faire: A Day of Merriment for Lords, Ladies and Little Ones.

December 20th, 2025

If holiday cheer with a side of whimsy, wassail, and wandering minstrels was on the wish list, the Celtic Winter Faire delivered in grand fashion. Held at John Prince Park, the Renaissance Faire–style celebration transformed Palm Beach County into a snug winter realm where Celtic folklore, handcrafted wonders, and good-natured mischief held court, and where the modern world was politely asked to remove its shoes at the gate.

Though still early in its reign, the Faire carried itself like a well-established court with its banners already flying straight. Director Ben Kerr, drawing from years spent at the Florida Renaissance Festival and his role running the largest sword school in the eastern United States, shaped the Faire around a refreshingly noble decree: once inside the gates, revelers should be free to enjoy the realm without constant calls for coin. Admission granted access to hands-on pursuits such as archery, sword fighting, and staff slings, lending the day a generous, come-one-come-all spirit rather than that of a toll road.

Equally important, safety reigned supreme. Each activity was introduced with clear instruction, patiently explained by trained instructors who demonstrated proper form before anyone stepped forward. From drawing a bow to gripping a practice blade, every endeavor was watched over with care, allowing first-timers, families, and young squires alike to participate with confidence. It was a kingdom where fun flourished precisely because order was well kept.

The mood was set almost instantly. Wandering the grounds and admiring the vendors’ finely crafted wares felt less like shopping and more like strolling through a bustling medieval market. Artisans spoke proudly of their crafts, smiles came easily, and playful banter flowed as freely as the laughter. The Faire encouraged unhurried roaming, the sort where one follows curiosity rather than a schedule.

Before long, idle wandering gave way to a test of arm strength and stubborn pride. A sword-holding contest transformed casual bravado into a true trial of endurance. With arm shaking but resolve intact, I held fast and emerged victorious, earning a medieval-style knife as fitting spoils. It was a small but triumphant moment, the kind of friendly challenge that made the Faire feel alive rather than staged.

My nephew found his own triumph in the gnome race. With plenty of fanfare, he lined up alongside fellow racers and was met with cheers from people who had never laid eyes on him before. He did not claim victory, but the crowd’s encouragement had him smiling ear to ear, as voices rang out urging him on as if he were racing for crown and country. That instant fellowship between strangers and costumed characters alike was where the Faire’s magic truly took root.

That warmth echoed throughout the realm. My nephew swapped jokes with performers, shared words with the king himself, and moved from one activity to the next with the confidence of someone who felt wholly welcome. Staff members remained ever watchful yet unobtrusive, striking a careful balance between freedom and guidance that allowed the day to unfold naturally.

No proper day of revels would be complete without sustenance fit for the road. Fresh, gooey chocolate chip cookies and savory empanadas proved irresistible, quickly earning favor and ensuring spirits remained high as we continued our wanderings.

In the end, the Celtic Winter Faire felt less like a scheduled event and more like a gathering of the realm. It blended medieval flair with genuine hospitality, playful contests with thoughtful oversight, and spectacle with sincerity. Departing the grounds felt akin to leaving a friendly kingdom, one where laughter lingered, safety was quietly upheld, and every visitor, young or old, had been invited to take part in the revels.