I began my search for a second tree of the day. “What next?” I thought, “I wonder how my new trowel will work out.” On my way I saw another Icy Peddler. His cart was old school- that is to say, it had a block of ice that he would shave down, load into a paper cone, and drench in brightly colored sugar syrup.
“What’s going on? Why are there so many Icy Guys out and about? It’s a nice day and all, and it’s Friday, but I just don’t get it,” were my thoughts while I observed a man approach the Icy Peddler. He had a gigantic smile and marveled at the peddlers cart. With out stretched arms he exclaimed what is recorded in this drawing. He was in a state of reverie over youthful memories? of simpler times? of summer times? Whatever it was he was lost in it and excited and it was a good feeling.
The Icy Peddler was confused, however. It was just a job for him. He was unsure what the man wanted. Their exchanged seemed kind of lonely.
I continued to walk south on Boston Road searching for a tree.