A Year on Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [48]
There was a vintage fire engine and a contingent of Army Reservists in full uniform, which elicited wild cheers and applause from the crowd as they passed by, followed by a World War II cannon pulled by a pickup truck. There were representatives of various clubs and civic organizations carrying banners, and mascots wearing chicken suits and pig suits and dog suits, waving to the crowd. The whole thing ended with Shriners in tiny cars, and it was impossible not to laugh and cheer with the rest of the crowd when the last of them passed by.
They stopped by a booth selling fried pies and homemade pound cakes, and received an invitation to join the Women’s Literary Society. Bridget bought a folk-art painted birdhouse and received advice on organic pest control for the garden, as well as a great many helpful—although not necessarily relevant—thoughts on what kind of mole, rabbit, deer, or goat might be devouring her sprouts. Cici bought a vintage marcasite ring that that she thought Lori might like for her upcoming birthday, from a booth that was raising funds for new computers for the elementary school; it was there that she met the mayor and his wife. Lindsay saw Jonesie selling his wife’s lemon cakes to raise money for new band uniforms, and promptly placed an order for electric fans, which he promised to deliver the first thing in the morning.
But by far their most lucrative find was when they crossed the street to the Baptist lawn and discovered a pig, roasting in a pit under a bed of glowing wood coals while a bluegrass band played and men in overalls served parts of that pig, with your choice of red (sweet) or vinegar (sour) barbecue sauce, complete with baked beans, potato salad, and a side of slaw, for five dollars a plate.
“And now we know,” announced Cici as they stepped into line, “what pig-picking is.”
Maggie was behind one of the tables, pouring lemonade, and she happily introduced her husband Lee as the overalled barbecue chef by her side. When they inquired about the pig, Lee was pleased to explain how it had been roasting in a closed pit all night, supervised by the men of the Rotary Club, who kept each other awake with tall tales and, he added with a wink and a nod toward his wife, maybe a six-pack or two. It was an annual event, and the money they raised was divided equally between the mission funds of the two churches.
“What’s the deal with the fireworks?” Cici wanted to know. “Farley seemed awfully disappointed.”
Lee gave a snort that was half derision, half amusement. “Guess he should’ve planned better, then.”
“Farley usually drives down to this little place in South Carolina to get a special deal on the fireworks,” Maggie explained. “It’s not that we have a big display, just a few little things for the children, you know. But this year he waited too late to go and they were all out of the good stuff.”
“Got plenty of sparklers though,” chuckled Lee, ladling up baked beans. “Ya’ll be sure to stay for that.”
“They told him they’d have a new shipment in by the middle of next week,” added Maggie.
Lee just shook his head, still chuckling.
Maggie wanted to know how they were settling in, and they regaled her with stories of their house-restoration efforts while she helped fill their plates.
“So now we have a forced-air furnace sitting in our cellar and no air conditioner, and I don’t think we’ll ever see that electrician again,” Lindsay said.
“Not to mention we’re going to have to have some serious septic tank work done,” Cici said. “Farley gave me the name of a fellow, Will Peterson, but said he was in Baltimore for a couple of weeks.”
Maggie frowned a little as she filled three paper cups with lemonade. “Baltimore? Will Peterson can’t even afford to go to Stony Gap.” And then her face cleared. “Oh! He must have said ‘gone to Baltimore.’ As in . . .” She lifted one shoulder and looked at