The third week of April, I was writing a story with a day or two left before deadline. Plenty of time, as long as I kept tapping those laptop keys. The weather was luscious. Seems that last rain washed out a good deal of the excessive pollen that our Lowcountry humidity had trapped in its sticky molecules. The sun shone warm and bright; fat, opalescent clouds skittered across a powdery blue background, temps hovered in the low 70s, and a soft breeze whispered just enough to keep tiny, bitey insects at bay. 

I remember sitting in a Queen Anne chair, having a cup of Nescafé coffee, and looking out of my hotel window in Luxembourg City. From the sixth floor of the Grand Hotel Cravat, looking down on Constitution Square, the view is in direct alignment with the Monument of Remembrance, a war memorial to the citizens of Luxembourg who volunteered to fight in both World Wars and Korea.

Although, I am not sure what this phrase even means.

I have never raised one so I’m not sure what all the fuss is about. I do know it has something to do with dirt, snails, and pulled puppy dog tails. Later, I know because I have carpooled lots and lots them, come fumes of Axe odor masking body spray that doesn’t hide the body odor but makes you roll the window down even in the pouring rain.

By Margaret Evans, Editor 

Dick Andrzejczyk is sweeping the sidewalk outside his shop when I arrive for our interview. It’s a familiar sight to anybody who knows downtown Beaufort. 

            “I like your attire,” he cracks. (I’m wearing jeans.) Very professional. Especially those flip-flops.” (They’re sandals, for the record, and perfectly respectable.)

            I remain unfazed as we walk into Finders Keepers together. I’ve known Dick a long time, and this ribbing is part of his shtick. The Curmudgeonly Shopkeep. Beneath that crusty exterior beats a warm and good-humored heart, but you didn’t hear it from me.