Singularly Country

There are a few things that are singularly country - they happen only because you live in the country. Here are just a few examples from this week:

• Your husband's co-worker calls to see if he can have his truck towed to your property, because he hit a cow on his way back to town from work.
• You stand in your driveway* swapping stories of door-crashing animals with the co-worker's girlfriend, and she can one-up your story about the previous day's turkey/duck/goat poop fest with the story of the time her horse climbed the porch and walked on into the house. She wins. (*Is it technically a driveway if it's 1/8 - 1/4 mile long? At what point does it become a lane? I'd prefer to call it a lane. Probably isn't quite long enough. Shoot.)
• On Tuesday, you drop your 9-yr-old daughter's best friend off at the bottom of her driveway after choral group lessons. She clambers over the cattle guard (she's not very tall) and climbs onto the 4-wheeler she has stashed behind an old truck, then rides on up to her house. (I bet we could call her driveway a lane - it's at least 1/4 mile long.)
• After her Thursday choral group practice, your nine-year-old daughter is off to calf roping lessons. She may or may not be wearing her scuffed red cowboy boots. Country girls like high heels, too.

These are just a few examples of sure signs that you live in the country. There are many other such examples, but I hate to stir up all that covetousness and longing in the hearts of my city dweller friends. Especially with stories of playful old horses, snow glistening in the garden, and old gray barns looming in the background. I'll keep those enviable moments to myself.

Love from the farm,
Teri