The Backroad Chronicles

Arden Bradford

On one of those hot summer days when the sun beats down on the hayfields and the red-tailed hawks are just a speck in the high blue sky, the folks on the far side of the Western Marsh would down tools, pile into a car (five or more) or truck (less than five) and drive the backroad to the Laketown Hotel.  In a cloud of dust and laughter, arms waving from the windows, they would pass by me and leave “Hello Arden’s” floating across the field.

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