As winter comes on, Canadian geese pervade the skies, parks, streams, and fields. A casual afternoon drive along the river following the migrating gaggles of geese brought about a late lunch at the historic town of Rambouillet. It’s an exotic name for a rustic town of 246 or so, indicating the value of sheep raised here. One restaurant somehow stays open, even flourishing, renown for Cajun boil. All the stars must have been in alignment as sheep and geese of the Rambouillet Café provided Dinner and free Show in an environment all its own.
As often happens, well-nourished folks feel free to expound openly. An official food review had fostered a bit of tizzy. The waitress, wearing a dual cap as a bar maid, had additionally suffered a recent back injury and offered a grande expose’ of comments and exclamations. The cook and maid stridently discussed the Reviewer’s notes for improvement, injecting smoldering commentaries.
Locals at the bar quacked into the din clarifying how hard work caused back pain and they liked the local chow just the way it was. As I closed my eyes, I envisioned the wild flocks and domestic sheep in waitress uniforms conversing in the tall thorny scrub of the Platte. Since I wasn’t sure if I was to applaud or ignore the raucous melodrama, I tipped generously as to avoid being the subject of Scene II Act I, The Miserly Habitué.
Outside, other flakes were also falling. I reached up to touch their cool silence while the giant, honking V shapes snaked across the expansive, prairie skies.
Story contributed by aj
photo by talismancoins.com