Limited Action Authorized Under Conditions Of Low Commitment
By Tom Seest
At Sequatchie Crossing, we tell the stories of Sequatchie Crossing.
Please share this post with your friends, family, or business associates who may want follow the news from Sequatchie Crossing.
🎤 Audio Overview
Trial Attempt Approved Without Full Debate
ACT I – THE MATTER OF THE THING NOBODY WANTED TO ARGUE ABOUT
The trouble started the way most civic innovations started in Sequatchie Crossing.
By accident.
It was Tuesday morning at Ruby Mae’s Diner, which served as the unofficial headquarters of local government whenever Town Hall seemed like too much effort.
Boot Barnes sat in his usual booth near the pie display, nursing coffee that had been reheated enough times to qualify as a mineral. Across from him sat Clovis Strickland with three legal pads, a clipboard, and a pair of binoculars.
Nobody knew why he had binoculars.
Nobody asked.
That was part of the social contract.
“I got an idea,” said Boot.
The diner became quiet.
Not silent.
Just quiet enough that several people looked toward the door in case evacuation became necessary.
Mabel Dean Ashcroft narrowed her eyes.
“What kind of idea?”
“The manageable kind.”
“Those are usually the dangerous ones.”
Boot ignored this.
“You know that empty patch beside the community garden?”
Everyone nodded.
A chicken wandered past the window.
Then another.
Then the same chicken came back.
Nobody was completely sure.
“We could try growing sunflowers there.”
Silence.
Not hostile silence.
Evaluative silence.
The kind of silence usually reserved for deciding whether a distant noise was thunder or somebody dragging an appliance uphill.
Mabel stirred her tea.
“Why?”
Boot shrugged.
“They look nice.”
The silence deepened.
Clovis began writing.
“What are you writing?” asked Trixie Jo Bartlett.
“Baseline observations.”
“You ain’t observed nothing yet.”
“Exactly. This is pre-observation.”
Shelley Fawn Wexler entered carrying a tablet.
“I heard somebody had an idea.”
“Boot wants flowers.”
Shelley blinked.
“That’s it?”
“Apparently.”
“Well that’s refreshingly small.”
Act I – The Matter of the Thing Nobody Wanted to Argue About
Pastor Arnold Peeler walked in carrying a stack of church bulletins.
“Morning, everybody.”
“Boot wants flowers.”
Pastor Peeler nodded.
“I’ve heard worse.”
“That’s the strongest endorsement we’ve got so far,” Mabel said.
A cautious brown chicken stepped through the open diner doorway.
Nobody reacted.
The chicken stopped.
Looked around.
Took one additional step.
Then stopped again.
Everyone watched.
“See?” said Boot.
“See what?” asked Mabel.
“Even the chicken’s willing to try something.”
The chicken immediately retreated outside.
“Counterpoint,” said Mabel.
The motion carried unanimously.
Though nobody was entirely sure what motion had occurred.
Act I – The Matter of the Thing Nobody Wanted to Argue About
ACT II – TOWN HALL CONSIDERS LIMITED COMMITMENT
By Thursday evening the matter had escalated into an official discussion.
Which was unfortunate.
Official discussions tended to reduce the likelihood of anything happening.
Town Hall was packed.
Or at least fuller than usual.
Sheriff Peeler sat near the rear with Daisy the hound asleep beside him.
Officer Kenny Joe Teeter occupied two chairs despite only intending to use one.
Tiffany Annette Roark livestreamed events to six viewers.
Four were relatives.
One was herself on another device.
The sixth remained unidentified.
“Next agenda item,” announced Mister Wade Langston.
“The sunflower proposal.”
Nobody applauded.
Nobody booed.
A man coughed.
That was the strongest reaction.
Mabel stood.
“I would like the record to reflect that I am neither for nor against sunflowers.”
“The record reflects confusion,” said Chester Ray Blevins.
Act II – Town Hall Considers Limited Commitment
Chester was taking minutes despite not being the secretary.
He simply enjoyed documentation.
“Thank you.”
Clovis raised a hand.
“I have developed a tracking system.”
Groans echoed around the room.
“You tracked something already?”
“Not yet. But I have prepared.”
“What are we measuring?” asked Maggie Sue Dillard.
“Growth rate. Bloom density. Pollinator activity. Public sentiment.”
“How do you measure public sentiment?”
Clovis held up a chart.
The room sighed collectively.
Pastor Peeler stood.
“Friends, perhaps we don’t need to know everything before trying something small.”
Several heads turned.
The statement sounded suspiciously reasonable.
“Sometimes,” he continued, “the purpose of a trial is learning.”
A murmur passed through the crowd.
The concept seemed unfamiliar.
Shelley leaned forward.
“What if we just plant a few and see?”
Mabel folded her arms.
“We’ll see.”
The phrase landed like an official municipal ruling.
Around town, “we’ll see” occupied a legal status somewhere between a permit and a prophecy.
Sheriff Peeler scratched Daisy’s ears.
“I don’t see a law against flowers.”
Officer Teeter nodded.
“I checked.”
“No you didn’t.”
“I intended to.”
“That’s different.”
“Still counts.”
The debate continued for forty-five minutes.
Nobody argued passionately.
Nobody supported passionately.
Nobody cared enough to fight.
Finally Wade Langston sighed.
“All those in favor of a limited trial?”
Hands rose.
Slowly.
Reluctantly.
Like people volunteering to help move furniture.
“Opposed?”
No hands.
Mostly because nobody felt strongly enough to lift one.
“The trial attempt is approved.”
Town Hall stared.
Had governance just occurred?
Apparently.
Act II – Town Hall Considers Limited Commitment
ACT III – THE COMMITTEE FOR TEMPORARY FLOWER IMPLEMENTATION
The next morning a committee formed.
This was unfortunate.
Every project in Sequatchie Crossing eventually acquired a committee.
Sometimes several.
Boot arrived at the community garden carrying seed packets.
Clovis arrived carrying clipboards.
The ratio immediately felt wrong.
RT Mullins showed up with a shovel.
Sonny Morales brought work gloves.
Coach Freddie Stubblefield appeared because he had mistaken the gathering for a fundraiser.
“What’s happening?”
“Flowers.”
“Good enough.”
Mabel arrived last.
As was tradition.
She inspected the area.
“We’ll see.”
Clovis made a note.
Mabel frowned.
“Did you just document me?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t document people saying we’ll see.”
“I absolutely can.”
A pickup truck arrived.
Brett and Alyssa Crenshaw climbed out.
“We heard there was a project.”
“There is.”
“Does it need social media?”
“No.”
Act III – The Committee for Temporary Flower Implementation
“Then it definitely needs social media.”
Within minutes photographs appeared online.
The post read:
LOCAL EXPERIMENT UNDERWAY.
COMMUNITY TAKES BOLD STEP.
Nobody involved would have described planting flowers as bold.
Yet there it was.
A chicken appeared near the edge of the garden.
The same chicken.
Or possibly another.
It approached cautiously.
Everyone paused.
The bird took three careful steps.
Stopped.
Looked at the newly disturbed soil.
Then pecked at it.
“Look at that,” said Boot.
“It’s evaluating.”
“It’s eating a worm.”
“It’s participating.”
The chicken pecked again.
Mabel nodded.
“We’ll see.”
Clovis wrote furiously.
Act III – The Committee for Temporary Flower Implementation
ACT IV – RESULTS BEGIN IMMEDIATELY AND MEAN ABSOLUTELY NOTHING
Three days later the project generated data.
Which was unfortunate.
Data attracted Clovis.
He stood beside the plot explaining graphs to anyone trapped within hearing distance.
“Growth remains statistically insignificant.”
“Nothing’s sprouted yet,” said RT.
“Exactly.”
“Then why make charts?”
“Because eventually something will happen.”
Shelley examined the paperwork.
“You have three pages showing nothing.”
“I call it trend analysis.”
Maggie Sue laughed so hard she nearly dropped her lemonade.
Across town rumors spread.
One version claimed the flowers would attract tourists.
Another claimed they would attract bears.
A third claimed they were secretly experimental vegetables.
Lurleen Davenport repeated all three stories before lunch.
By dinner she believed them.
At the sheriff’s office Daisy occupied her usual position beneath the front desk.
Sheriff Peeler reviewed a complaint.
Officer Teeter read over his shoulder.
“What’s it say?”
“‘Concern regarding excessive optimism surrounding flower initiative.'”
“That’s a real complaint?”
“Apparently.”
“Who filed it?”
“Anonymous.”
Act IV – Results Begin Immediately and Mean Absolutely Nothing
Officer Teeter nodded thoughtfully.
“Probably Clovis.”
Meanwhile Pastor Peeler visited the garden.
Boot sat on a folding chair watching dirt.
“Anything happening?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“How’s that good?”
“If nothing happens immediately, people stop overreacting.”
Pastor Peeler smiled.
“Patience remains underrated.”
A tiny green sprout emerged from the soil.
Neither man noticed.
Act IV – Results Begin Immediately and Mean Absolutely Nothing
ACT V – THE SPRING OF SPECULATION
The first sunflower appeared Monday morning.
By noon it had become a civic controversy.
Tiffany Roark interviewed residents.
“What does the flower mean to you?”
“It means there’s a flower.”
She sighed.
People were making journalism difficult.
At Ruby Mae’s Diner, theories multiplied.
Evelyn Grace Tipton believed the flowers improved morale.
Chester Ray Blevins believed they improved symmetry.
Doug “Doughboy” Teeter believed they improved sandwich sales.
No evidence supported any position.
Evidence seemed unnecessary.
Clovis unveiled new charts.
Nobody asked him to.
“The first bloom exceeds projected expectations.”
“What expectations?” asked Shelley.
“The ones I projected.”
Mabel squinted at the flower.
It stood perhaps eighteen inches tall.
A slight breeze moved its leaves.
“We’ll see.”
Act V – The Spring of Speculation
The chicken appeared again.
This time it approached much farther.
Step.
Pause.
Step.
Pause.
Step.
Pause.
Like a tiny auditor evaluating municipal expenditures.
Finally it stood beside the flower.
Everyone watched.
The chicken stared upward.
The flower swayed.
The chicken remained.
“I think it approves,” said Boot.
“No way to know,” said Mabel.
“We’ll see.”
Act V – The Spring of Speculation
ACT VI – A CRISIS OF EXCESSIVE SUCCESS
The real trouble began when the flowers started growing well.
Success created expectations.
Expectations created meetings.
Meetings created paperwork.
Within two weeks twenty-seven sunflowers stood across the plot.
Town Hall scheduled an emergency discussion.
The emergency involved flowers.
Wade Langston rubbed his temples.
“We need to address public questions.”
“What questions?” asked Sonny.
“Mostly whether we should expand.”
Groans echoed.
Pastor Peeler smiled knowingly.
“One step at a time.”
Clovis distributed reports.
No one accepted them voluntarily.
He distributed them anyway.
“Pollinator activity is up.”
Act VI – A Crisis of Excessive Success
“How much?” asked Brett.
“Twelve percent.”
“Compared to what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then how do you know twelve percent?”
Clovis hesitated.
“That’s not important.”
“It feels important.”
Mabel leaned back.
“This is exactly why I said we’ll see.”
Shelley nodded.
“We haven’t even finished trying the first thing.”
A hush settled.
The statement carried weight.
Because it was true.
Sheriff Peeler stood.
“I move we keep doing exactly what we’re doing.”
Officer Teeter raised his hand.
“I second.”
“Motion carries.”
“That ain’t how motions work,” Chester said.
“Worked pretty good.”
The meeting ended.
Everyone left feeling oddly satisfied.
No expansion.
No cancellation.
No strategic roadmap.
Just continued observation.
The town considered this a major achievement.
Act VI – A Crisis of Excessive Success
ACT VII – THE GREAT FLOWER TOURISM SCARE
Two weekends later a family stopped to photograph the sunflowers.
That should have been harmless.
Instead it triggered panic.
Lurleen burst into the diner.
“We got tourists.”
Everyone looked up.
“How many?”
“Four.”
The room froze.
“At once?”
“At once.”
Shelley checked.
Sure enough.
A family from somewhere else stood taking pictures.
Children smiled.
Act VII – The Great Flower Tourism Scare
Parents pointed.
Nobody caused problems.
Yet concern spread anyway.
“What if more come?” asked Evelyn.
“What if they don’t?” asked Maggie Sue.
“What if they do?”
“What if they don’t?”
The discussion continued for thirty minutes.
Outside, the chicken walked calmly among the flowers.
The family photographed it.
The chicken seemed pleased.
Clovis arrived carrying new data.
“I’ve recorded twelve visitors.”
“Tourists?”
“Observers.”
“What’s the difference?”
“I have categories.”
Of course he did.
Pastor Peeler arrived.
“Friends, this is exactly why we did a trial.”
Everyone stopped.
“If we learned nothing, we’d know the idea didn’t matter. If we learned something, we’d know more than before.”
Mabel nodded slowly.
“We’ll see.”
The family left.
The town survived.
Act VII – The Great Flower Tourism Scare
ACT VIII – THE REPORT
One month after approval, Clovis unveiled his masterpiece.
A report.
One hundred and seventeen pages.
Nobody read it voluntarily.
Not even Clovis.
He mostly admired its existence.
Town Hall filled again.
Wade Langston stared at the stack.
“Why is it so thick?”
“Appendices.”
“What are they?”
“Additional appendices.”
Mabel laughed.
Even Chester laughed.
That was unusual.
Clovis presented findings.
Act VIII – The Report
Flowers grew.
Bees visited.
People stopped occasionally.
Nothing exploded.
No economic collapse occurred.
No social upheaval emerged.
The town remained intact.
“That’s your conclusion?” asked Sheriff Peeler.
“Yes.”
“It took one hundred seventeen pages?”
“Scientific rigor.”
Shelley raised a hand.
“What did we actually learn?”
The room grew quiet.
Clovis considered.
Then surprised everyone.
“We learned we didn’t need all the answers first.”
Silence.
A thoughtful silence.
Rare.
Valuable.
Boot smiled.
The room looked at him.
After all, it had started with him.
“I just thought flowers might look nice.”
The audience nodded.
Sometimes origins were smaller than outcomes.
Act VIII – The Report
ACT IX – AUTHORIZATION FOR CONTINUED MODERATE EFFORT
Autumn approached.
The flowers stood tall.
Golden.
Steady.
Unconcerned with governance.
A final gathering occurred beside the garden.
Everyone came.
Boot.
Clovis.
Mabel.
Pastor Peeler.
Sheriff Peeler.
Officer Teeter.
Shelley.
Tiffany.
RT.
Sonny.
Act IX – Authorization for Continued Moderate Effort
Maggie Sue.
Lurleen.
Evelyn.
Doug.
Coach Freddie.
Brett.
Alyssa.
Chester.
Wade.
And Daisy.
The hound wandered lazily between rows.
The chicken appeared too.
As if summoned.
It approached one flower.
Paused.
Took another step.
Paused again.
Then walked directly into the middle of the plot.
No hesitation.
No retreat.
No committee approval.
No strategic planning document.
Just movement.
Everyone watched.
Pastor Peeler smiled.
“That’s about right.”
“What is?” asked RT.
“Trying something.”
The breeze moved through the flowers.
Mabel studied the scene.
After several moments she nodded.
“We saw.”
The crowd turned.
“What?”
“We said we’d see.”
She gestured around.
“Now we’ve seen.”
Clovis quietly wrote the statement down.
Nobody objected.
For once.
Boot looked across the field.
“You know, next year maybe we try pumpkins.”
The entire crowd groaned.
Yet nobody said no.
Which in Sequatchie Crossing was often how history began.
Act IX – Authorization for Continued Moderate Effort
EPILOGUE – THE FOLKLORE OF LOW COMMITMENT
Years later people would remember the sunflower trial differently.
Some would insist it had transformed community engagement.
Others would claim it saved local morale.
A few would argue it attracted economic opportunity.
Clovis would maintain binders proving all three theories.
No one would read them.
The truth was less dramatic.
The town had approved a small experiment because nobody cared enough to stop it.
Then something pleasant happened.
Not miraculous.
Not revolutionary.
Just pleasant.
And perhaps that was the lesson.
Large decisions frightened people.
Permanent decisions frightened them even more.
But temporary decisions?
Limited trials?
Small experiments?
Those slipped through the cracks of certainty.
The chicken never became famous.
The flowers eventually died back.
The reports gathered dust.
Yet the next time somebody proposed a modest idea, the response changed.
Not much.
Just a little.
Instead of immediate debate, someone would shrug.
Someone else would nod.
And eventually Mabel Dean Ashcroft would say:
“We’ll see.”
Which, in Sequatchie Crossing, was often the closest thing to progress anyone ever needed.
Epilogue – The Folklore of Low Commitment
DISCLAIMER
The Sequatchie Crossing Dispatch is a work of satire and fiction.
All characters appearing in this story are fictional recurring characters inhabiting the equally fictional community of Sequatchie Crossing. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, local residents, officials, flower enthusiasts, committee chairpersons, report authors, chicken observers, sunflower auditors, or individuals maintaining unnecessarily detailed pollinator statistics is entirely coincidental.
No chickens were appointed to advisory boards during the writing of this story, though several may have been more qualified than certain committees.
The underlying message remains simple:
Trying something small is often easier than deciding everything.
And sometimes a cautious step forward accomplishes more than a perfect plan that never leaves the meeting room.
Disclaimer
Real Places Behind the Ruckus – From The Dunlap Directory
Real Places Behind the Ruckus – From The Dunlap Directory
Yes, this story was fictional; even the parts that weren’t true. These places? Absolutely real. Stop by, support local, and keep the Wi-Fi away from livestock:
- H&M Armory
- Dunlap Volunteer Fire Department
- Fireside Camp + Lodge
- Sequachee Valley Electric Cooperative
- Greenehouse Children’s Center
- Sunflower Corner Floral Arrangements and Gifts
- Church Trainer
- Trail Life Troop TN 1613
- StorageSmith
- Old Dunlap General Store
- AutoZone
- Rocky Top Woodcraft
- First Presbyterian Church
- Busy Bees
- Swafford Septic Services
- Omni Rehab – Dunlap Office
- Applegate Inn
- Camp Chet
- Chattanooga Zoo
- Sequatchie Memorial Gardens Community Cemetery
Real Places Behind the Ruckus – From The Dunlap Directory
At Sequatchie Crossing, we tell the stories of Sequatchie Crossing.
Please share this post with your friends, family, or business associates who may want follow the news from Sequatchie Crossing.
0 Comments