For the first time in a while, I was able to experience small town charm. Listen to this:
After eating a quick lunch on the edge of the courthouse lawn, I walked over to the bank (only across the street) and withdrew a little money. I crossed the street without even worrying about any passing cars and wandered over to the farmers who sell their produce every afternoon. I walked down the street, and every step of the way an older farmer or his wife warmly welcomed me to their stand. I finally ended up at the last one and bought an apple tart and a small jar of homemade strawberry jam. After paying the old man in overalls, I started crossing the courthouse lawn to head back to my truck. I was suddenly taken aback that I was walking in the shadow of a building that held the likes of William Jennings Bryan and Clarence Darrow. As I looked up to the top floor where the famous trial was held, I saw a policeman standing in the window. I suppose I was staring a little long, for he finally spotted me and waved. I grinned and waved back. The smile that I shared with him could not leave my face. I opened my door, turned my key to make my little red truck jump to life, drove up the hill, and went back to work.
I felt like I should see Barney Fife step out of the police station while Aunt Bee gave me a recipe for biscuits. It was absolutely perfect, and it made me fall in love with small towns all over again.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Posted by Princess of Dictionopolis at 9:39 AM