When the Johannsens first purchased the land to build their home, they delighted in its unique location. To the north they had spectacular views of the lake and lighthouse. To the west, just beyond Abernathy’s Orchard was the refreshing fishing hole and the cool dark woods just beyond that. All this only a short skip from the center of town. They knew it was the perfect spot for them to raise their children.
What they had not anticipated was how this ideal location would become the spot where everyone in Cobblestone Circle would gather for their annual end-of-summer barbeque. There is some debate as to whether it is a celebration of the last lazy days of Summer or the beginning of the upcoming school year, but it has indeed turned into one of the favorite events with everyone bringing their own special contribution to the feast.
Some things never change. Eleanor Thistlewhitte brings her potato salad. Mrs. O’Dooley, with her sweet tooth brings a dessert and this year she brought gooey chocolate brownies. The Cobbs bring fresh picked corn from their garden ~ along with all of Jack’s same old jokes about it being the best Cobb’s cobs ever. And you can always count on Mimsy Shrewsbury’s pickles sitting untouched until someone takes pity on her and manages to make them disappear from the table without her seeing exactly where they have gone. But I’d have to say the one thing everyone looks forward to the most is Rosie’s famous homemade lemonade.
In the course of the afternoon folks tend to spread out into the surrounding areas. Those that enjoy the beach wander off for a quick dip or to build sand castles. A few of the folks bring their lines and poles for a fishing contest, and there are those among the children who make an afternoon of climbing the trees in the orchard talking to each other on tin can telephones.
Of course they all end up around Sam’s grill for dinner. Every year he wears the chef’s hat Timothy Merrimuffin had given him during the first of these parties. On his grill can be found every sort of classic summer fare from freshly caught trout to steaks, chicken and burgers. His favorite though is the lowly hotdog, probably due to the fact that his wife, Rosie, out of concern for his health, has put strict limitations on his consumption of them.
He stands there smiling, eagerly awaiting his treat, hoping with all his might that his buddies, George Taggert and Chester Adams, will not spill the beans to Rosie about how they had lunched on hotdogs at the cafe last Tuesday.
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