Thursday, March 31, 2011


"We're going to make a stop on the way home," I informed my granddaughters and their friend.

I pulled into the parking lot of the feed store. Sydney read the sign on the door, 'Peeps'.

Last year we stopped into the farm store when bunnies were in the cages. The girls loved visiting the critters and wanted to know about this unusual store in our neighborhood.

We live on the edge of metropolitan Portland. Farm/ranch land is just a short drive away. This store is not one that is visited often by urban population, but this woman found the store and was delighted.

The girls quickly ran to the three tier cages holding the baby chicks. For the first time, they stroked the heads of the peeps when they reached out to get food from the feeder. In another cage, two pigeons cooed as the girls stood next to the cage. I could not take the girls to the farm, but we could do the next best thing.

The store reminded me of the farm stores back home. The smell of straw and feed. Horse gear filled one wall with garden supplies in another. A small store bearing the smell of home.

The first time I stepped into this store, I walked the aisles just savoring memories of the farm. I ran my hand across the saddle. I poked my fingers into a cage to pet ducklings. The farm child in me once more walked through the barn back the lane on Neff Road.

A touch of the country in suburbia.

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