The bell above the Gull Lake Diner’s door jingled, letting in a crisp breath of prairie air and the faint scent of cinnamon rolls from the kitchen. The regulars had already claimed their corner booth, mugs steaming on the worn Formica, the table littered with raffle tickets and auction flyers. Earl wrestled with his spectacles, Binder watched the group with a steady calm, and outside, early sunlight glinted off frost‑edged sidewalks. The council meeting notes lay folded besid

The October wind rattled the windows of the Gull Lake Diner, sending a shiver through the regulars huddled around their usual table. Inside, the smell of bacon and coffee wrapped around them like a blanket, and the talk was as lively as ever. Edna, sharp-eyed and sharper-tongued, peered over her glasses at the notice board. “Well, I saw that business about the Southwest Regional Emergency Measures Organization (SWREMO) rolling out their new emergency alerts,” she declared, s

The cinnamon buns were still warm, and the coffee had just started to cool. Edna sat at her usual spot, one eyebrow raised, the latest Gull Lake 2035 editorial open on her phone. Earl was already halfway through his second bun, and Mabel had brought her own mug from home—enamel, chipped, and loyal. “I read Part Two,” Edna said, not looking up. “The one about what we’ve actually built.” Earl puffed out his chest. “You mean the sewer lines and the lagoon? Smells like progres

The mugs were steaming, the frost clung to the diner windows, and the talk at Coffee Row was as lively as ever. Outside, Gull Lake was waking up slow and steady. Inside, the regulars had already settled in — coats draped over chairs, boots drying by the heater, and the scent of cinnamon buns drifting between sips of coffee. This week, the crew had plenty to chew on: a Jail & Bail fundraiser that raised nearly $10,000, a new editorial about Gull Lake’s future, and a spotlight

🚧 Sewer Service Linings Mayor Binder  (steady): “Council approved sewer lining from the street right into two homes. Less digging, less mess, fewer headaches.” Mabel  (earthy, dry): “About time. Pipes shouldn’t sound like Earl after chili night.” Hank  (plain‑spoken, loyal): “Better than tearing up the street. No one needs their yard turned into a trench.” Edna (dramatic): “Well, it’s about time council did something sensible. Gull Lake deserves modern solutions, not patche

The diner was humming, mugs clinking as the gang settled in. Anthony Huckabay’s medal was the first topic. Rita leaned in: “Anthony Huckabay's medal... forty years as a paramedic, and now a second bar to the Governor General’s Medal. That’s a lifetime of service.” Edna stirred her cup. “Forty years? I can’t even keep a toaster working that long. That’s commitment. ” Earl nodded. “Started right here in Gull Lake back in ’85. Proof small towns raise big‑hearted people.” Mabel s