You know you live in Mayberry when you are in G'ma
Opal's yard and the neighbor who lives on down the
gravel waves as she drives by, and then she suddenly
brakes and backs up, pulls into the drive, leans out
the window and says, "Why aren't you in Mexico? Is
something wrong?"

Further proof comes when she, after your snakebitten
Joel explanation, says, "Did you know Junior D. (I'll
keep the last name private for his sake) had a huge
heart attack today?" Then she pulls out of the drive
and in 1-2 minutes Aunt Jenny pulls in, hops out of
her car and says, "Junior D. had a heart attach today
and is in the hospital."

Anne Shirley says if you go in your bedroom at midnight,
and then you pull down your shade and sneeze, Rachel Lynde
will ask you the next day how your cold is. Mayberry, and
our gravel road in particular, is a tich like that...no,
it is very like that.

The wildflowers are all purple and yellow and white. There
are purple coneflower, and there are these purple spiky things,
and there are purple flowers that resemble Queen Anne's Lace.
I'd like to make a bouquet out of the three colors of wildflowers.
It would be lovely and, I think, quite artistically pure.