It’s the kind of town where the local police Sergeant opens his apple orchard and corn maze for the kids to come hide and seek. Where the last sunrays before equinox feather the tips of green stalks and goldenrod and the closest thing to riff raff are a handful of tweens who chase down the tractor for a ride. Over here, your recent incident with a chainsaw is nothing compared to your neighbor’s cool scar from an ax. It’s where we play rock, paper, scissors for a chance to shoot corn out of a canon into the sunset and everyone is sticky in sweat, cider, popcorn and ketchup. In the land that time forgot, they laughed and ran and played.