Consider a few pages as an appetizer. May I deliver the full-course dinner?
We’ll catch up, as we can, After the Revolution.
This group living did have some advantages to speak of. Like the garden. One prime summer afternoon at the Campsite down the lane behind the house, folks sat down at utility spools turned on their sides and at a long table built of old boards on sawhorses. Nita and DL had already strung a long cord of prayer flags.
It was a festive sight when Rusty dished out the first of their own homegrown corn-on-the-cob. “Wanna bite of corn,” he grinned as he passed the platter around.
“OK, sure, mmm, MMM! Wow! That’s the best corn I’ve ever had!”
“You know, it’s the new hybrid containing both silver and gold, butter and cream, white and yellow kernels in the same ear.”
“Hey, this stuff is really good,” everyone exclaimed. Wink even ran back to the farmhouse, yelling all the way: “Irma! Irma! Ya gotta come try some of Rusty’s great corn!”
And she concurred, “Umm, hey, that’s fantastic corn! Best corn I’ve ever tasted!”
The rest of the summer Rusty kept getting an earful of compliments each time a visitor shared the table. Hungry grins kept declaring his hybrid the best corn in existence.
To learn more about my Hippie Trails novels, go to my page at Smashwords.com.