An after-dinner walk recently brought me to a little white church converted to an antique store just off our Main Street. The store was closed, but it was the yard that drew me across the road anyways. The fence could barely contain what was within. I could see clusters of grapes on an arbor, berry bushes, corn, squash, a variety of flowers. My companion and I poked our noses through the chain link, trying to get a better glimpse. A posted sign proclaimed this garden belonged to someone called "The Loon Ranger." While we were naming those plants we recognized, a woman's face appeared at the window, and she stepped outside. My inclination was to take my friend's hand and urge him along, not wanting to impose.
What followed is why I love my place and my people. In some communities the residents would draw the blinds, let the dog out and hold their breath until you pass on by. Where I live they drop whatever they are doing, unlock the gate and spend the next three hours of their precious time giving you a guided tour. The fence is intended to keep out critters, not neighbors.
To read more about Sheri's exploration into "The Loon Ranger's" garden, pick up this issue of Lake and Home Magazine. Trust me. You won't be disappointed.
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