It’s really not a bad place to park your potatoes.
There is a mildly possessed postman, true.
You should probably hide behind the door
while he’s sorting your letters on the porch,
loudly reciting the names of Devils who plague his iPhone.
Deliver any wrongly received mail yourself
to avoid repeated invitations to duels or a blood vendetta
lasting many generations. Unless that’s your thing.
Supernatural events are largely confined
to the small laundromat at the end of town
and the Dollar Tree store with the horsey ride out front
built on an old govt. extraterrestrial burial ground.
In other words, the usual small town stuff.
The horsey ride is not, by the way, overrated.
We have a series of canals left over
from the abandoned cannon mill, and these are lovely
for those into Canada geese voyeurism
or magnet-fishing for antique cannon balls
bearing the faces of various forgotten generals
and suffragettes for women’s right to bear cannons.
We have the usual accommodations for lost tourists
who somehow end up here: the Animal Shelter
has a series of comfy mangers in the “Other Species” wing.
You will find the locals are not likely to make eye contact
unless you wake up with one tending the hay of your manger.
In that case, it is appropriate to tip, but wildly inappropriate
to comment on that shame mask with a long iron beak
he or she will probably be compulsorily wearing.
Local wildlife is charmingly various and rarely bellicose,
except for the imported squirrels, which finished off
the native species in a manner too grisly to relate here.
Don’t put too much stock in those news stories about our HOA
being wanted by the ICC. It’s really a silly little kerfuffle
stirred up by a bunch of busybodies with nothing better to do
than monitor private wars agreed to by all parties involved.
Hopefully I did a decent job of repping Ye Olde Village,
and here’s to hoping we will soon be neighbors…
or I can at least have the privilege of serving you
during your sojourn in our quietly magical kingdom
our local delicacy of thumbatouille geriatrica,
which is, I can assure you, as delicious as it sounds.