Merryville is a very pretty and some say a bit quirky, though neighborly, little town. A simple place, in a simpler time, it sits within a small valley ringed with evergreens, wild cherry trees and several small farms . Most folks who grow up in Merryville, tend to stay in Merryville. Just a bicycle's ride to the coast, you'll find the loveliest lilacs grow here in spring, and folks come from miles around, just to see our bluebirds, and to hear the blackbirds sing.
The kettle's always on in Merryville.
It whistles a song of peace.
Now, while you may say that Merryville isn't a real place, you can't really say that it doesn't exist. Merryville is as real to me as any place on earth. It dwells in my heart, and in the spirit with which I try to approach living.
Mrs. Staggs loves to garden, and you will often find her outside wandering about her property with her faithful companion, Miss Luna, in a long skirt and wellies, with a trowel or other garden implements in hand. Known for her lovely roses and the tallest foxgloves you ever did see, Mrs. Staggs also grows an abundant vegetable garden, and a great many dahlias that she loves to share. Pickled beets, and giant sunflowers, tomatoes and collard greens, are just a few of the crops Mrs. Staggs will grow this year. Well, she'll have to pickle the beets after she grows them, but you know what I mean!