It is the kind of town where this business closes every evening and it looks just like this....
...and it looks just like this the next morning! Gotta love that.
I was buying it....they were irritating as heck as they swaggered oh, so slowly in front of me.
But then, tough guy #1 stopped and oh so gently scooped one of these beautiful blossoms into both hands and took a little sniff...and somehow maintained his cool! Another one of God's reminders that I am not to judge, but to love. Gotta love that.
Gotta love my little town.
7 comments:
I LOVE this little town! I always told Craig it reminded me of John Mellencamp song. :D
Those baggy-pant boys will surprise you. I see it every day.
Yep. You probably know these two! Sometimes, those of us who are not FROM here appreciate it most!
Great story/reminder, Donna! Have a great day. blessings ~ tanna
I got teary Donna. Thank you!
Blessings, Debbie
Our little town, culturally religious as it is, is no longer like yours. At night, gang members roam the back roads and by-ways, and even before that, the high schoolers thought it was funny to blow up rural mailboxes. This makes my heart so sad. We live along a major interstate in a sparsely populated part of the country - it's like putting a rose into a vase of polluted water - the water will move up and stain ever cell.
I think your town is the heart of what America means.
I imagine there are some dark pockets about even in Preston County, but in the 30 years I have lived here, I bet there haven't been 10 murders...
We are still fighting the good fight, it seems, and I am so happy about that.
A wonderful story, Donna. Our town is like that too - merchandise out all night. And no one locks their doors (house or car). Which, I confess, is something I cannot get accustomed to. The lack of door locking, I mean. My husband used to grumble mightily when I would lock him out of the house when he was just out to get wood from the shed. I didn't do it ON PURPOSE. But my city-brain would kick in upon seeing an unlocked door, and without even registering what I was doing, I'd lock it. It was a grim faced husband, arms full of wood, that I encountered when I answered *those* knocks (of the kicking variety).
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