Brainard, Nebraska. The thriving metropolis where you never see a chicken, nor a bike. Just cars, more cars, and buildings.
Yeah. . . not so much.
Brainard is where Mum and I go every year to take our old chickens to the butcher. The time came to take our yearly trip a couple weeks ago.
Last year when we went to Brainard Mum and I dropped the chickies off at the butcher, then we went to a Cafe, and she got coffee, and I got pancakes. We were excited to go back to the cafe again this year, while we were waiting for our chickens. But when we found it again, it was closed!
We walked around the little business block of Brainard, looking for a Cafe, coffee shop, or even a grocery store. But there was nothing. We laughed about going to the bar while we were waiting, and talked about running over to another town if there was one close, but it didn’t take long to establish that we, being visitors with no knowledge of the area, had no clue where to go.
We went back to the car and grabbed our cameras (hereafter known as the Rebels), and walked over to the Post Office to see if we could get help of finding a cup of coffee.
Inside of the post office we met a friend of yesteryear. The waitress from the Cafe was now the Post-mistress. She told us that the place to get coffee, now, was the bar.
So after our reunion, we went to the bar.
I’ve never had that much fun in a bar before.
I’m sure it helps that I’ve never been in a bar before, and that I had caffeine. . . oh well.
Mirrors just call for pictures, don’t they? We thought so.
Finding that it had been about an hour, we left to pick up our chickies. But walking back to the car we got distracted. . .
How can you not be distracted? A shop full of colors and colors of different bikes?
After picking up the chickens we drove back home. . . and naturally had an adventure. But that’s another story.
One which I will tell you. Soon. And here’s a preview for you, loves.
Thanks for letting me share my adventures with you!