Somewhere, nested deeply in the DNA of every man and woman, is the recorded thrill of the General Store. Like phobias and deep seated fears, a few irrational joys are likewise seeded in the beds of our cellular memory. It's the only explanation. . . .
Notions and potions. Fabrics and threads. Tools and seeds. The potent rewards of emerging intact through the frozen winter. To ride into melting spring, and a shop dripping with the pleasures of answered needs. . . .
No need to imagine the excitement. Some of us feel it all the time. That call to pretty buttons and lace and cards of every imaginable doodad. (Now it's just called Walmart.) Ah me. . . .
I hope you're all high and dry, and trekking out!
Don't miss the party at