En route in retreat hailed as a quest: A historic site pulls you over, but a parking lot of empty, field trip school busses drives you away. Instead, a downtown diner advertises another attraction — Chik-N-Biscuits $4.95. Sit at the counter. The guy sitting next to you, wearing a T with the diner name, is eating it. Waitress recommends. Lunchtime bygones poke to-&-from booths, mingling along the way. One passing convo mentions roadwork & pie. The guy who was eating next to you is now behind the register. Pay the check plus a $10 diner T to-go. At the edge of town, a shuttered building: The Pie Shoppe.
Just a few miles later, another surrender: A registered landmark lures you to a dirt lot at a restored village stocked with a gift shop. The cashier points out the wares & makers. A small grater was hammered by “Tinman Ray” — traditionally, a bucketmaker, but “went to Canada to study tin art” because his local historical society “already had a bucketmaker.” He also makes tin lamps, “but only for the village display.” There are also small portions of animal skins in various singular shapes from “Furman Mel” whose last name the cashier says she “can’t pronounce.” A prairie dress & apron re-enacts into the shop with hands clasped at her belly. A leather apron & beard follows her in & says Hi to the cashier. The cashier says “No tour requests yet. Maybe later.” The aprons smile, then leave together. The cashier says “The new blacksmith doesn’t have a nickname yet.”
mmm...nut meg 🌟