My poor husband! He grew up around suburbs and strip malls. The over commercialization of America surrounded him. And then he met me.... Not that city life was foreign to me. I lived on my own in the armpit of America myself for almost a whole year. But the stupid things you do for love. After following him around from city to city as his career advanced, I stoically held onto my dream of living back in my home. A place that he would be surrounded by family (mine) and experience all four seasons,whether he wanted to or not. Somehow I made him convince the company he worked for that he could easily work from a home office and we could live wherever we wanted to. He suggested Jamaica, I made him move here.
Not that "here" is all that bad. Kids don't have play dates, they just go outside and play. Mom's call them in for dinner. Things haven't changed much here from generation to generation. Family loyalty has been described as 'clan like" Family names that would be unfamiliar anywhere else have been here since they came over from Europe. Agriculture has always been here and living off the land continues. We were organic before it was cool. Not only did we know what kind of food our beef was fed, most times we could tell you its name too. Its a double edge sword. Your neighbors know all about you, good or bad, and in most cases are there to help.
But here we are with our 3 kids and wiener dog. We ended up buying a house in the "business district." Across the street from the general store and 2 doors down from our local grocery store. This blog is meant to describe our transitions from urban to rural and how my big city, technology junkie husband deals with it.
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