Always light and open, Fieldsgrove was a simple place. It's residents always greeted each other sweetly and sincerely. Smaller than Lichtenstein, Fieldsgrove was a place of complete serenity.
The streets were a mix of cobblestone and dirt and the entire village was like out of a picture; It was as though all of the people were painted in.
The houses were small and blue with white shingles. The street that circled Town Square was a cloudy bronze and burnished chocolate. The serendipity of the area wafted through the air.
Most of the perimeter was rural with farmland with rolling hills of fern and honeydew and in the autumn the fields were blanketed with all shades of red, yellow, and orange imaginable!
The skies were royal blue with puffy pearl white clouds on nice days. It rarely rained in Fieldsgrove but when it did, the place became very dark and somewhat dreary. The people pulled out their barely-used umbrellas and rain around avoiding getting wet.
Sunset was the best time of day for Fieldsgrove. The sky turned dark purple with yellows and pinks and greens.
Mostly the days were wonderful and sunny. Everyone always had a smile apon their face. It was fantastically unreal how everyone got along. You don't see that everyday in everyday places. Everyone was happy.
Or appeared to be happy. But underneath, the people of Fieldsgrove were miserable.
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