Switchin' Flies

by Barney Nelson
could probably be entertained watching paint dry. One drizzly Thursday night, I showed up at Kokernot Field at 7 pm intending to watch baseball, but the infield was a series of small lakes, some of them full of quick sand, the players in shorts, many barefooted. Rats. I checked my social calendar. Nothing until maybe late August. So, I meandered to my usual spot, unfolded my chair, and put my feet up to wait for the mud to dry. No wonder I'm happy in a small town.
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