Thank God, I'm a Country Girl
What seems like a lifetime ago, but was really about half a decade, Pete and I considered moving to the city. New York City. We would search online and review the Sunday real estate section of the New York Times. We would go on dates in the City and walk through various neighborhoods, trying to picture them as our neighborhoods. Would these be the streets we would walk down for a Sunday bagel and cup of coffee?
At that time we were living in a city. The 13th largest city in New Jersey. And the longer we lived there the more we would rethink city life. The noise. The crowd. Is that what we wanted? In the end we decided no, and we packed our things and moved to the Poconos.
The neighborhood we moved to is more suburban than country, and despite being raised in suburbia, there was still an adjustment. Mainly, the extra "wildlife." I distinctly remember one summer night after we closed on our house. We were sleeping with our windows open, and I could not get over the racket of the tree frogs. They were so loud! (Or so I thought.) I remember rolling over and asking Pete, "Why did we move here again?"
Two years later I had a business meeting in Manhattan. Pete and I stayed in the hotel where the meeting was being held. In Mid-Town. And despite being 20 some-odd floors up, the noise seemed deafening. The sirens, the horns, the traffic. Who could live like that? Not me. And I told Pete I would never complain about the tree frogs again. Despite the fantasies, despite those first pangs of buyers remorse, it was clear we had made the right decision. We were not city people.
We're country people. Suburbanites, at the very least. We don't need a mall, and we're content with fewer chain stores in our neighborhood. We like the trees and the landscape. The cool breeze coming off the creek as we make the scenic drive to Pete's father's house with windows open. It's like a slice of heaven.
And I thank God I'm a country girl. Even if I don't truly live in the country.
But when I read Martha Stewart's blog entires, like this one, and I wish that I lived on a farm, deep in the country, with lots of acreage and a dirt road leading up to the property. (And having her crew caring for the farm wouldn't hurt, either.)
I have farm envy. :-)
At that time we were living in a city. The 13th largest city in New Jersey. And the longer we lived there the more we would rethink city life. The noise. The crowd. Is that what we wanted? In the end we decided no, and we packed our things and moved to the Poconos.
The neighborhood we moved to is more suburban than country, and despite being raised in suburbia, there was still an adjustment. Mainly, the extra "wildlife." I distinctly remember one summer night after we closed on our house. We were sleeping with our windows open, and I could not get over the racket of the tree frogs. They were so loud! (Or so I thought.) I remember rolling over and asking Pete, "Why did we move here again?"
Two years later I had a business meeting in Manhattan. Pete and I stayed in the hotel where the meeting was being held. In Mid-Town. And despite being 20 some-odd floors up, the noise seemed deafening. The sirens, the horns, the traffic. Who could live like that? Not me. And I told Pete I would never complain about the tree frogs again. Despite the fantasies, despite those first pangs of buyers remorse, it was clear we had made the right decision. We were not city people.
We're country people. Suburbanites, at the very least. We don't need a mall, and we're content with fewer chain stores in our neighborhood. We like the trees and the landscape. The cool breeze coming off the creek as we make the scenic drive to Pete's father's house with windows open. It's like a slice of heaven.
And I thank God I'm a country girl. Even if I don't truly live in the country.
But when I read Martha Stewart's blog entires, like this one, and I wish that I lived on a farm, deep in the country, with lots of acreage and a dirt road leading up to the property. (And having her crew caring for the farm wouldn't hurt, either.)
I have farm envy. :-)