We small town girls are peculiar. Sometimes all we crave is the electricity and opportunity of a city. And sometimes we’ll go out of our way to find a new little town even smaller than our own.
Fellow island girl Kelsey (of Team Shaw Photography) and I follow this call as we wind through hills and valleys to find Bow-Edison, a one stoplight town, minus the stoplight.
We crunch down the gravel road to find all of the charming storefronts are shuttered closed, saving their energy for the weekend.
The Breadfarm is our one salvation.
If it were a handful of days earlier or later, we would have shared the single street outside with tourists, would have heard chatter and traffic instead of the silver wind stirring through the trees.
But for now, the town is quiet. Everything is a contented sigh. 
So we sit in the public garden, the bright quilt-turned-picnic-blanket a mere echo of the eruption of color in the flower bed behind us.
We shift with the breeze, blowing dandelions and feeling the brittle crust of the baguette give way to the spongy core, breaking bread and breaking the silence with life-giving words.
And we are content, feeling the sun wrapped in an afternoon haze, the heat coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once, settling on our skin.
Here in this town, nestled in mountains and valleys, time stands still. I think there is almost too much. Then I realize there is simply more than enough.
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