For the next couple of weeks, Mr Lene and myself spent time working on my car. But at this point I wasn't in much of a rush anyway. Why would I be after all I was in a place you enter and never want to leave. And what amazed me was enjoying helping the Lene's with spring cleaning. In the evening we would cook outdoors and then go for long walks. The flowers were in bloom and the aromas so pleasing to the smell. I couldn't help but wondering how anything so wonderful as a place like Whispering Pines ever existed. But at this time I was unaware that this was only the beginning.

After the spring cleanup, it was time to start exploring said Mr Lene. "You just have to see the rest of our village." I became so eager,sleeping that night was impossible.

And so the next morning our journey began. The first and all day stop was the most beautiful and heavenly garden this reporter ever set eyes upon. If you have ever heard the expression the Gateway to Heaven, this garden was the greatiest preview I've ever seen.




I have never in my life seen so many flowers. There was every color imaginable. The place was simply breathtaking. And the stone walkways were like pathways in a field of flowers. The birds were singing an the wind was a like a gentle kiss on the face. The streams rippled a soft echo of the water hitting the rocks. This whole place was so magical in it's own right.

And then to my surprize at the end of the walkway we were on, came the most photographic site in the world to me.




My first thought when I saw the gazabo, what a wonderful place for a romantic evening. The waterfalls behind, the music of the birds, and a glass of wine to sip with your lover. Wow what a setting. Only a place dreams are made of. Our timing was perfect to add to the picture. We arrive here around sunset which in turn just added to the beauty. I really hated to leave, but as the Lene's reminded me, tomorrow was even a bigger day. I was to meet the Mayor and be welcomed to the village officially.

The next morning the sun was bright and the birds singing as usual. I couldn't help thinking why everyone couldn't exprience at least once in their lives the calm and serenity within, that Whispering Pines seems to offer. As I was getting dressed the smell of Mrs Lene's cooking was adding to this great place. Anyway soon I would see more and couldn't wait.

It seemed what took forever to get start on today's adventure. But finally off we went. Mr Lene on our way explained to me how politics wasn't a big deal in the Pines. Actually the political scene as far as the residents care about was nil. In fact the only politican in the village was the Mayor. Oh yes Mr Lene said "We are very interested in the happenings on the politics of the goverment and Washington, but choose not to bring it to the village living."

Just as Mr Lene was finished explaining and around the bend, I spotted what was known as The Manor. My thought was WOW what a place. Sure would love to call this place mine.



The Manor was huge. It was built and owned by the mayor's grandfather. But yet it had a warming glow to it. I guess you might say as friendly as the villagers. There were beautiful and well manicured lawns and gardens.

As we were standing at the door I couldn't help but notice the fine craftmanship of the structure. Truly a work of art. When the door opened I was immediately introduced to her honor JudyDee. Once again I was welcomed with that friendly gesture I was becoming accustom too. JudyDee brought us into the parlor a tall pitcher of ice tea was waiting. I found Mayor JD, as she like to be called, very interesting. She to had wonderful stories about the Pines. But she was also right up to the latest in politics. The mayor after or ice tea took me on the grand tour of The Manor. There's just on way to describe the grandeur of the place. We were about to go to the stables when JD's butler interupted for a phone call from Washington. Her Honor apologized and asked me to come again since she new it would be a lenghty call. I told her I would and the Lene's and I left for home.

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1998
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