Here's an early picture of the Tilton House (on the right) where I now have my shop. It's from the Brown County History Center archives. I don't know the exact date it was taken. We're looking up North Jefferson Street from Main Street. That cute little church up the street isn't there any more. My house looks pretty much the same here as it looks today except the chimney is gone. The house on the left is where the painter Frederick Rigley lived and had his studio. It hasn't changed much either. It looks like there never was a structure on the vacant lot next door that's now the village green.
Last night Sparky from Kentucky delivered another load of flowers to my neighbor Mike’s shop. My favorite thing to watch but this time I was out on a buying trip and missed the arrival of the long blue and yellow truck with the narrow doors all along the sides. Behind each door are compartments with different kinds of flowers. Never seen anything like it. When the doors go up all you can do is gasp and covet. Mike chooses and Sparky unloads. This time Mike picked so many plants he had to line them up along both sides of the sidewalk all the way past my shop. Beautiful and fragrant. Late summer perennials: fragile-looking but hardy roses, red hibiscus with huge blooms, rudbeckia in yellow, orange, and red. I’m a girl who lived in New York City for 26 and three-quarter years and expected the sidewalks to always be edged by big piles of black bags containing designer garbage. This is a completely different story.
Flowers are blooming all along the block, most of them in pots that belong to my neighbor, Michael's Flowers. Mike is a visionary with endless energy for making luscious displays of pastel pots, vintage garden furniture, rusty fence parts, flags, and ceramic bunnies. In the evening after the stores close the crowd changes from shoppers to hungry people on their way to the microbrewery on Molly's Lane. Music starts. Then twilight, then dark.