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The Seed Show, nostalgia and homemade pie

Only a few days before the 63rd Montana Seed Show and a nearly palpable excitement shimmers in the Harlem air. It's contagious. As I make my rounds in town, to the post office to pick up my mail, then to city hall to pay my water bill and on around the corner to Albertson's for buttermilk because I have a yen for biscuits in the morning and across the street to the Senior Center to say hello to Katie and whoever is hanging around, I hear, over and over, "See you at the Seed Show!"

Nobody asks, "Are you going to the Seed Show?" It is understood that unless one is stuck in the hospital or off va...


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