Village Market At Shelton Vineyards.
The green varnish upon the westerly barnish structure in poedunk USA stood out like no other I’d seen in my north south (vice versa) travels, leaving me wanting to explore the wares they peddled.
Greeted with a Mayberry welcome sign hung above the door and bottles of red wine one foot in and I thought I’ve reached gas station Shangri La. Pleasantville by all outward appearances right here in west, West Virginia or was it Dobson, northern North Carolina? — I can almost smell the aroma of baked apples and peaches and butter — they’re Aunt Bee’s pies cooling on the sill, partially covered with a white…
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