The town next to me is Clyde, a name that John and I had fun with. He said he wanted to find a house there so he could tell people we lived in Cliiiiide, said with a made-up mountain accent. I laughed every time.

Today a lost dog parked itself on a porch two streets away. The house owner checked with her neighbor, who in turn contacted Shawn on our street and included two photos. Shawn spread the word to us. D. must have dictated her reply, because she suggested someone call a humane society in COLLIDE. I love it! I’m dying to tell someone I’m going to (run into) Collide for lunch.

Less than an hour later word came that the dog belongs to the man who owns the fruit/vegetable stand near the creek. The man is very personable. He talked to John and me a long time one day. The two men talked about traffic on Long Island. He grew trees here and drove them to a nursery in Southampton. It pleases me to think Waynesville trees are growing in an extremely rich area of Long Island.