Sense of Community

Most valued reader, our humble apologies for the delay in posting new essays. Mr. Fuzzy was away for three days last weekend and it was such a marvelous experience that his paltry writing skills have been severely challenged.

Thus this post regards yesterday, Saturday. The Fuzzies began their day early in order to be at the semi-annual community flea market before all of the good buys were sold. Overwhelmingly, the items for sale were clothes, shoes, etc., not farm tools, tractor accessories, and those other objects of our lust. Nonetheless, Mrs. Fuzzy bought some vegetable seedling for next to nothing. We worked up such an appetite walking and shopping that, after most careful deliberation, it was decided we should eat breakfast at the Cafe rather than perish of malnutrition on the way home. Alack and alas, the same thought was on many minds, er, stomachs, and the line was to the door. Sigh.

We came home and Mrs. Fuzzy worked hard in her garden; Mr. Fuzzy took a nap... until the appointed hour when we raced for the Honda and sped down Highway 221 to the next wee village of Willis. There in the fire station was a five hour Gospel and Bluegrass concert by three bands, barbecue, cake auctions, and a generally good time with our neighbors - all to raise money for the food bank. The music and singing was very good and then some, but for a while, we were severely distracted by the barbecue plate ($5.00) which centered on the tastiest barbecued pork yet to temp our palettes in Virginia - and the cooker was mounted on the back of a tractor - and done by two gents who live across the road. Mmmmmm. Mighty fine. The cake auctions were hot with some delectable delights going for nearly $30.00. We hung out until about 6:30 p.m. by which time we were feeling the pull of unaccomplished tasks on the farm.

What a nice day it was, mostly spent with our fellow Floydians (?), much fun, good grub, and sharing the news with our friends. What is there not to love here?