George down at the paint store managed to pull off something no one ever thought possible; he found, wooed and wed a woman without everyone in town knowing about it.
In a community where everyone knows how many times a day each person brushes his teeth, and how many teeth each one of us has, this was something of a miracle.
The newspapers began disappearing about two weeks ago. Disappearing like smoke in a high wind. The paper boy swore he delivered all of them, same as usual. Same as his older brother had before him. Said he was able to "porch" quite a few.
But the papers kept disappearing, and it wasn't long before gab sessions were taking place in the beauty parlors and barber shops and the coffee shops regarding our local crime spree.
Theft hasn't really been a problem here, you see. Usually something that starts out looking like theft turns out to be something pretty innocent that just happened to be complicated by a lack of communication.
The snow pulls back its winter covers and brings up a whole new tomorrow for us. Where there was darkness and cold there is now light and hope and plans. There is something about the sight of fresh, wet ground after the snow leaves, and we find ourselves walking out into the backyard each morning and looking to see if any shoots are coming up yet.
Where exactly did we put those bulbs? Right along here, I'm pretty sure. And the buds on the peach tree seem to be swelling with the promise of rebirth. Which plants are the toughest? Which will come up through the still-cold ground after the long winter? It doesn't matter, really.
We knew it was coming when Bert came into the Mule Barn truck stop the other day. He took his usual stool at the philosophy counter and world dilemma think tank, where he reigns as Cutting Edge Technology Advisor to the board of directors.
"Whenever we get tired of breathing the same air," said Doc, "along comes spring."
"Yep," Dud said. "I breathed some this morning that came from the next state. I could taste at least two mountain ranges in it as well as a coal-burning whatchamacallit."
"I like spring, though," Doc said. "It always calls for a new set of clothes."
