A stone’s throw away from my new house lie acres of  farms and one small town. The town has art, rusty cars and a tiny library. The farms have cows and  cow smells, oh, and lots of rows of corn. The kids think we moved to the country when really it’s just farms being swallowed by suburbia.

Did I mention going to a “Corn Drive-Thru” last week? Not even kidding. We drove up to buy a 12 ears of corn thru the window of the mini-van. So, funny and yummy.

Pretty landscape on my drive

I had a chance to partake in the small town vibe recently. No kids, husband, and agenda. Just me, warm breeze, and my camera.

I drove a stretch of 2-lane roads which landed me in downtown on main street. Rough-patch boards lined several historical buildings hinting at their thriving past. Welcoming retail shops and services seemed to be growing strong here and there, in the summer’s heat. Store stoops boomed with conversations between passers-by.  Even I chatted-it-up with the owners of the new “vintage” store that opened  in town this summer. She knew and loved the style and work of the Shabby Mamas! High Five!

i love old doorknobs, don't you?

During sunset I strolled looking in window-fronts.  I happened upon a trendy/humble/cool/owner-operated/semi-local made ice cream shop, so I checked it out.[read: saw ice cream sign and ran across the main street to get in line so fast even the cows did a double take.]

I ordered the most delicious flavor. Mint julip flavoring, grasshopper cookies, and chocolate here and there with more minty ice-cream. I was so excited my mouth literally watered a little bit as I waited for the cone to be crafted.

My hand reached out to grab the completed ice cream cone. Then the sign above the cash drawer met my eyes. It said no credit cards. What?  Clearly, I miss read. Nope, there I stood with my hand out, not taking the cone mind you,  just standing there without checks or cash.

My previously-watering mouth hanging o-p-e-n and a heartbeat of now-what-have-I-done pounding in my mind.

And just like that, he waved his hand the cone was mine. “Aw, just come back around when you can,” he beamed as I fumbled to say thank you. He wasn’t a flirt, he wasn’t a lazy cheat. He was really just a trendy/humble/cool owner of a semi-local made ice cream shop with a good sense of customer service. Now that’s a business worth coming back to…with my husband and 4 kids. Yeah, that guy just made a lot of money down the line.

Cheers for small towns, vintage markets, ice cream cones, and people who rock!

-Jess