As one who doesn’t really plant flowers or maintain a garden, I can’t say I wouldn’t be tempted to spirit away the blooms of another (wo)man’s labors…

I’m fairly certain that someone is working hard to frame my coworker as a crazy person. At our sleepy museum in Monmouth, the burglar alarm was set off once - supposedly by the wind. Another time my coworker found a set of keys (from a Ford) in the center console of her Chevrolet Impala. Just this summer two concrete pavers were stolen from the side yard and the gardener asked why two daisy plants were now planted in their place. The most recent incident of Tom-Foolery is the exchange of mum plants. Two maroon mum plants were purchased and planted in the urns on the front porch. Two days later they were each replaced with a yellow and orange mum plant. Apparently there was no time to actually re-plant the yellow one; it was simply balanced on top of the soil in the urn. I myself have never been witness to these odd occurrences, but that doesn’t stop me from firmly placing my suitcase in front of the haunted door of my bedroom while visiting in Monmouth.

During this most recent trip we celebrated the 157th birthday of Founder Minnie Stewart, shot the breeze with locals at the American Legion spaghetti supper, and traveled close enough for a quick drive by Norma Jean’s (the ill-fated circus elephant) grave.

Thankfully the packing plant wasn’t in full odor-producing mode, but I did feel the burn in my lungs and eyes from the Tuesday leaf-burning smoke. Apparently it’s only legal to burn on Tuesdays and Saturdays. I’m pretty sure the burning sensation in my lungs was from the leaves and not the asbestos tape or mold in the basement – where I spent much of my time working to move all the computer and office equipment upstairs.

I always enjoy my time in Monmouth and especially appreciate the self-reflection that the 7.5 hour drive affords. It doesn’t get much better than satellite radio and the open road…