West Virginia’s primary election day. So
this afternoon Farmer John and I went to vote.
Now, we get to vote in one of the best places ever. It’s someone’s garage. Yep, you read that correctly. We drive about 6 miles up the road to someone’s house, park in their yard, and walk right into the garage. It is a nice garage – complete with concrete floors and a small bathroom, but still, it is a garage. The décor includes a “Papaw” license plate nailed to the wall, large tool bench, and at least 5 mounted deer heads.
When we walk in we are greeted by six ladies, the same ladies that greet us each time we vote. They are always friendly and seem happy to see us. Ruby – who appears to be the crone of the group – checks us in. She calls Farmer John “the
Jennings boy” and remembers that I have
different last name. (I can only imagine what they say when we leave!) After we
vote, Shirley takes our tickets and we head back to the farm.
Today was a bit different than our usual voting experience. We had to wait to vote. There were four people ahead of us. Well, everyone got to chatting – not about politics, or local gossip, or even the weather. We talked about everyone’s gardens. Who got their potatoes in first, who’s crops were up, who still had potatoes left? There was some debate about planting under the signs or with the moon. Some people swore by “The Almanac”. One fellow voter talked about how big his potato plants got last year, while Ruby put her two-cents in about seed potatoes (“they’re worthless if they’re sprayed”). Eventually the conversation died down and we did our civic duty, gave the resident horse a pet on the nose, and headed down the gravel lane back towards home.