I head directly over to the town centre, enjoying the cool drizzle of early Autumn rain on my skin. It’s not so much raining, as just wet - like the air is filled with rejuvenating moisture, fresh and crisp, little beads of water clinging to the red and gold leaves of the maple trees overhead.
The town is even prettier than I initially thought - I realise now that the quick glimpses I got of it as we drove in a few days ago hardly did the place justice.
It's quintessential small-town America at its peak, a charming village of just under two thousand people according to what I’ve read online. The spirit and character of the whole town is centred around its location on the shores of Lake Serpentwood - the vast body of water seems to be the source of employment for most of the residents, wi
