The Camels of Misfit Farm

Author's note: This is an aside from other stories that will appear about the camels in future posts.

Sal was remarkably calm after Willis tried to investigate his glass of merlot. It is not every day that a glass of wine is tipped into your lap by a 1000-pound male camel. He laughed as Willis sampled his fruit and cheese.

Maura, however, was embarrassed and flustered as she dashed across the shed. "Oh, my God! I am so very sorry! This guy is an escape artist!" She rushed to the food vendor's stall and brought back a handful of paper towels but stopped short of dabbing at Sal’s lap. "May I get you another glass?" She had been distracted in her stall at the opposite end of the open shed and had not seen Willis until it was too late. Sal’s picnic table was at the edge of the dining area, and his back was to the outside walkway.

"I am fine, thank you! Let me buy you a glass. I think you need it more than I do."

"Are you sure?"

"I insist." He was attracted to her headful of wild red curls.

"Thank you. I will be right back." She grabbed Willis's halter and led him back to the pen where Hazel, his partner, had remained. As she secured the gate latch, Maura thought of Sal's gentle smile and warm brown eyes.

After ensuring the extroverted camel may not escape again, she joined Sal at the picnic table.

"I am so, so sorry!" she apologized once more, "Willis can be a handful sometimes!"

Sal had two more glasses of merlot sitting on the table. Fried onion rings and spicy fried mozzarella sticks sat nearby in cheerful red and white checkered cardboard trays.

They spent a lovely afternoon swapping life stories. He was an Italian chef from upstate New York looking for a warmer climate and a place to set up a vineyard. She was trying to restore her grandparent's farm after leaving San Francisco.

"How did you end up with the camels?" He asked.

"They were in my vegetable garden early last summer, and I can't find the owners. Bobby, my farmhand, has taken them on as a project. He gives rides to kids around the lot and sells bags of their poop to organic gardeners."

"I am a city boy," he said, "I would love to see the farm."

"It's about time to close. Bobby will manage the camels and close our stall. I would be happy to give you a tour."

He met the chickens and goats, admired the old barn made of wormy chestnut logs, and sampled herbs in the garden. They picked vegetables and gathered eggs for supper. He collected a bouquet from Granny's old flower garden to decorate the table.

She chopped vegetables, and he cooked. He prepared frittatas and fried bacon. She made buttermilk biscuits the way Granny taught her.

During the after-supper kitchen clean-up, Sal washed the dishes in the old enamel sink, and Maura dried them. She was placing the clean plates in a cabinet, and her back was to him when he said, so very casually, "You know, I can always tell how I will get along with someone by how we work together in a kitchen."

Maura turned around and smiled, "Is that so?"

And that is when he kissed her.