Summer time in my small-ish, childhood hometown is my most favorite time and place to be in this particular season. To the rest of the world, I’ll be honest, it probably doesn’t look like much. It’s tiny and there’s not much to do from city line to city line. When it’s 4-H season, it smells like cow, pig, chicken and sheep manure something fierce. There are too many potholes and confusing one-way streets. But this place, with all of its imperfect (sometimes smelly) glory, will always be home.