Crazy for Country Life

Birdsong or traffic hum? The choice, for some, is a no-brainer.

Photo by Gail Dutton. Copyrighted.

Years ago, when I told one my of my closest friends that my family and I were leaving coastal Southern California to live in the wilds, her reaction could be summarized in two words: “You’re crazy!”

She’s not the only person to say that, and I can understand her points.

If you bring your job with you, as I did, you’re the rainmaker, responsible for bringing in new clients. Unless your job complements nearby businesses, your networking won’t be local. If you don’t bring your job, you may have a tedious commute. If you plan to work locally, you will have fewer options.

Opportunities for your children will be different, and possibly more limited, than in metropolitan areas. For example, K-12 schools in Boston benefit from the proximity of world-class scientists and the educational program their companies offer. Those in rural areas usually don’t have that luxury. After graduating, your children may move away to pursue their careers. (Now that so many work from home, however, that’s less the case.)

So, who lives in the hinterlands?

Over the years, I’ve met:

·       A medical illustrator who works from home with big publishing houses.

·       A retired archeology professor who led tours around Greece.

·       A former helicopter pilot for remote logging operations.

·       A tech entrepreneur who made his millions and left the rat race.

·       A forest biologist.

·       A retired “big city” police detective.

·       Plus, lots of teachers, ranchers, loggers, and others who make life run smoothly for all of us.

·       I’ve also met a biopharmaceutical CEO who built a successful career in Boston and then moved to a smaller city (Oklahoma City) to help build the industry there. That’s hardly the country, but it’s within easy commuting distance!

“Hooterville,” from the 1960s TV comedies, Green Acres and Petticoat Junction, is fictional, and the “country bumpkin” stereotype is no more accurate than the “cold and impersonal” stereotype sometimes associated with those living in cities.

So, wherever you live, look beyond the obvious. Talk with people. Ask about their lives. They will have some amazing stories to tell.

Embrace the Rhythm of the Earth

For many of us, country life puts in touch with the natural rhythms of the Earth… the march of seasons, the migrations of birds and butterflies, and transit of the sun and stars.

When we first moved to this property, much of it had been clearcut, so we had unobstructed views of old-growth timber in the stream valley (which, as a riparian zone, is off-limits for logging). I learned exactly how far south the sun would set at the winter solstice, as indicated by a snag (dead tree) on the southwest ridgeline. I learned how far north the sun would travel in summertime (just before the crown of a particular hill) before the days gradually shortened again.

I can’t see the snag for the forest now, and even the hill top will soon be blocked by trees. Now, I watch Orion in the night sky, knowing that in another month or so, he will be far south, heralding winter in the southern hemisphere.

Why do I love the country?

It's quiet here. Yesterday I watched a pair of bald eagles soar overhead, chattering to each other. There’s rarely a need to scree, as many are generally nearby. This time of year, I can stand on the porch and hear the water tumbling down the cliffside and into a larger stream.

There’s plenty of space. You can drive a golf ball without holding anything back and, more to my taste, play frisbee on the lawn.

Fishing or kayaking means walking across the road. No traffic!

There’s also a strong sense of community. Before moving here, we lived on an island in between Vancouver and Victoria in Canada. Spring meant attending the community picnic and Easter egg roll. Summer meant joining  what seemed to be the entire island to celebrate Canada Day and, in September, the Terry Fox run. Halloween and Christmas meant gathering with friends around the island’s bonfire. When you were out and about, people said “hello” even if they didn’t know you.

Back in the U.S., the community is larger and is spread over a much wider area, so the vibe is different. The towns rally around the high school sports teams, and neighbors who may never actually meet chat over a community messaging site. That’s how we know who is looking for stray pets, find out what that loud noise was, and learn when bear or cougar are wandering through neighborhoods, among other things. We may not recognize each other, but the sense of community still exists.

So, am I crazy for living here? I don’t think so.

Are you crazy for considering living where the asphalt ends? Only you can decide.

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