| Halftime Cobbler eating in our yard. |
So, we played Kick the Can a few nights ago, as we often do now in our neighborhood. Per custom, our neighbors come out, and various friends from down the street drive their kids over. There are no formal invitations, and most of the time - I do not know how folks came to know about it. Some just walk by and join in. Our field of choice is always the front yard of the First Presbyterian Church of Weaverville.
Jessica finds an old coffee can, gives it to one of the kids and they cross the street yelling that "Its time to play!" The mothers mostly gather on our front porch, with mason jars full of wine and beer. The kids and the dads huddle up for a quick Q and A and info session. I usually volunteer to be the "seeker" first. Someone kicks the can. I retrieve it, close my eyes, and count to sixty - and we are off.
On this particular evening, we had even more folks drop by thoughout the games. Everyone is always welcome, and Jessica had just pulled a blackberry (that we had all picked that day at Justus Orchard) cobbler out of the oven. Everyone dug in, and we even met some new folks who happened to be walking by. We filled their bellies with cobbler and told them to stop by again soon.
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