THE VILLAGE SMITHY ~ By Absolutely*Kate

THE VILLAGE SMITHY

 

~ By Absolutely*Kate  

It was a new town. It was to be her town. The kind of town you just wanted to amble around. And so she did. From the Essex train station, she gathered her weathered valise and leather shoulder bag, sauntered up Broad and sashayed down Elm. She crossed Genesee to see what she could see and meandered her enthusiasm along the bends beckoned by winding round Juniper Lane  . . . which turned enchanting when its tour de force hit the high notes of ample brass fanfare upon the Village Green.  

 

Over hill and over dale, a resounding gazebo band was practicing star-spangled standards of Memorial Day renditions. The jostling chatter of townsfolk interjected here, there and everywhere, evoking Norman Rockwell with sound effects. The butcher and the baker were haggling over meat on the street. No doubt the candlestick maker in the shop where forest green canvas awnings were flapping could wax eloquent over town goings on. What a wide open view to pan the panorama!

 

And so she did, and from her vantage near the street light on the streetcorner named Desire, she saw him, the most evocative character to jar her peepers so far, in all the travels in all the towns -- and even a few gin joints she'd known. She spied him under the spreading chestnut tree. Yes, that was where the village smithy stood. An urge warmed her bold, an urge lunged her fearless. Instinct pummeled nerves, to speak out to him if she could. "Well, move feet,"  Liza admonished, setting her stroll from the sunny side of the street to where shady leafed branches bid wonder and she hoped . . . welcome.

© 2011 ~ Author Absolutely*Kate

in a small-town large state of mind 
  

Photo ala Wolfrage

TO BE CONTINUED

NEXT WEEKEND

ON THE VILLAGE GREEN

WHERE THE WHIPPORWILL

WARBLES STILL . . . 

... OR ...

Click here for Epic*sode 2 ~ "Need A Hoof Nipper?"