Traffic Jam

On the last day of school this spring Bob, the bus driver, was 10 minutes late getting to our house. I figured appreciative parents were showering him with praise and presents (Bob’s one-of-a-kind). Instead, when I asked he just pointed in the direction of the feed store and said “traffic jam.”

“Oh…”, I smiled. He was referring to the four-legged variety and not the two-axle kind.

Every morning, a local dairy farmer leads his herd down the road to another pasture and then collects them in the evening to milk. If you time it just right, you get to watch the march—it’s special—only this time, it caught the school bus. I bet if Bob has to call the transportation office to explain the tardiness, not much of an excuse is needed.

School will be back in session in a few weeks and we’ll all be engrossed once again in our hustle and bustle. I can count on that traffic jam catching me at some point…and I can’t wait. It’s just one of the reasons I love this area.


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