Country gal....or city chick? I can't decide.
Last night we went to have dinner with Ken's brother and our sister-in-law, Jason and Kelly. They live on 300 acres of beautiful scenery from end to end. After we ate, we trekked down a worn path to a pond. Jason let their dog, Jed, dive into the water for a training dummy while we marveled at his energy. The ducks who had been relaxing so serenely there now scurried to the other side of the pond, obviously annoyed with our disturbance.
The entire surroundings reminded me of where I spent part of my childhood, near Fuquay-Varina, North Carolina, in a little town (speck, really) called Holly Springs. We lived in a parsonage near the church where my dad was the pastor. The parsonage sat in a big field with a cow pasture behind it, as well as a small pond.
I drove Ken up to this area two summers ago to show him where I'd grown up. Memories flooded back as I stood there staring at it. I recalled how I would climb underneath the grapevines, pretending it was my castle. I saw the wooden logs that I used to hoist over to abuse the slugs who resided there. I saw the pasture where I would gather up piles of dried grass, creating it into African-style thatched "huts" where my Barbies could eke out a living. I loved the smell of pond water....I loved the rawness of weeds, Queen Anne's Lace, and black-eyed susans which grazed my little legs as I ran....I reveled in the sights and smells of the violet-colored morning glories covered in dew early on school mornings.
At this point, I can argue solidly that I am a country girl at heart. But it was not just a few years later that I was itching to move to a big city.....I made plans early in childhood to become an architect (or so I dreamed) and get a condo in the hub of Atlanta. I went to visit my uncle there, who had a condo within sight of the metro area of that city, when I was 15. I am embarassed to say that I was so intrigued with the fact that you could actually see the city line out of his den window that I set up a cot right in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass and slept there that night, cold as I was. I reveled in seeing ballets and plays at the Fox. I felt grown-up and responsible when I learned the maze of the subway system. I was walking on air when I was allowed an Amtrak train trip there alone at 16. Yes, I wanted city life, and I wanted it badly.
I am so torn between the two. I love the idea of a log cabin in the wilderness, where I can raise my own dairy cows and chickens, and I can spend my days learning how to make rustic breads and dye my own clothing. I still also dream of shopping at Bloomingdales, dining at sidewalk bistros, and feeding the pigeons in the park amid tall skyscrapers. I guess it's a good thing; I guess this means I'd be happy anywhere.
I am stuck right in the middle. I am within driving distance of large cities, yet I am also a mere 30 minutes away from serene countryside and perfect stargazing. I am halfway between the mountains and the seashore. I can't complain one bit. And I am so glad that God gave me a love and a fondness for so many parts of His creation.
The entire surroundings reminded me of where I spent part of my childhood, near Fuquay-Varina, North Carolina, in a little town (speck, really) called Holly Springs. We lived in a parsonage near the church where my dad was the pastor. The parsonage sat in a big field with a cow pasture behind it, as well as a small pond.
I drove Ken up to this area two summers ago to show him where I'd grown up. Memories flooded back as I stood there staring at it. I recalled how I would climb underneath the grapevines, pretending it was my castle. I saw the wooden logs that I used to hoist over to abuse the slugs who resided there. I saw the pasture where I would gather up piles of dried grass, creating it into African-style thatched "huts" where my Barbies could eke out a living. I loved the smell of pond water....I loved the rawness of weeds, Queen Anne's Lace, and black-eyed susans which grazed my little legs as I ran....I reveled in the sights and smells of the violet-colored morning glories covered in dew early on school mornings.
At this point, I can argue solidly that I am a country girl at heart. But it was not just a few years later that I was itching to move to a big city.....I made plans early in childhood to become an architect (or so I dreamed) and get a condo in the hub of Atlanta. I went to visit my uncle there, who had a condo within sight of the metro area of that city, when I was 15. I am embarassed to say that I was so intrigued with the fact that you could actually see the city line out of his den window that I set up a cot right in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass and slept there that night, cold as I was. I reveled in seeing ballets and plays at the Fox. I felt grown-up and responsible when I learned the maze of the subway system. I was walking on air when I was allowed an Amtrak train trip there alone at 16. Yes, I wanted city life, and I wanted it badly.
I am so torn between the two. I love the idea of a log cabin in the wilderness, where I can raise my own dairy cows and chickens, and I can spend my days learning how to make rustic breads and dye my own clothing. I still also dream of shopping at Bloomingdales, dining at sidewalk bistros, and feeding the pigeons in the park amid tall skyscrapers. I guess it's a good thing; I guess this means I'd be happy anywhere.
I am stuck right in the middle. I am within driving distance of large cities, yet I am also a mere 30 minutes away from serene countryside and perfect stargazing. I am halfway between the mountains and the seashore. I can't complain one bit. And I am so glad that God gave me a love and a fondness for so many parts of His creation.
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