I could wax poetic about the towns I passed (Brilliant), the signs I saw (Custom Bait, Trump), and the rivers I crossed (Tallahatchee, Mississippi, Eleven Point), but that seems like a long time ago. Not quite a week. I made it in time for the Fourth of July, which was celebrated on the first. Virginia and one of her grandkids came over, and I grilled, as is appropriate here in the middle of America.
We had rain, and a rainbow, and a rodeo and fireworks.
On the real fourth of July, yesterday, I went up to Mary's farm to pick up produce from her.
This guy by my doorstep, however, did NOT have a happy Fourth.
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