The sun’s slippin’ ‘twixt thunderheads, yet folk’ll preach of freedom and never stray from sloppin’ pigs or mending the same fences. There brains are keen as steel but their feet are nailed in straw. Do different: wander past your furrows, toss wild onion in your stew, or belt a bawdy limerick at the tavern. Taste a drop of wonder and prove you’re more than habit’s slave.