Blessed Summertime

When we decided four years ago to build a house in the country, I had reservations. I grew up in the country. I knew the pros and, more importantly, the cons. I knew that my kids would grow up on a road that would make learning to ride a bike tricky to say the least. (I still remember being five years old and having my brother decide it was time for me to learn to ride without training wheels. He got me started down our driveway--a very bumpy, pothole-filled oil top road--and about two seconds later I hit a bump and landed in a patch of thistles. Good times.) I knew there would never be a store, restaurant or movie theater within walking distance. I knew my kids would not be able to walk down the street to a friend's house, and that sometimes, they would be bored and lonely. I knew they would sometimes wish they lived in a neighborhood with an ice cream truck, cable, smooth roads and ...oh wait, that was me thirty years ago.

What I didn't count on was how much bigger the pros would be now. First, there are more than five channels on TV (although as long as "The Wonder Pets" and "Max and Ruby" are in our dvr, we could have five or five thousand channels and it wouldn't matter). And there's pizza delivery, which is almost as good as an ice cream truck. And while the road isn't much smoother than my childhood, the ditches are thistle free and there is at least a 200 foot patch of pothole free asphalt. But the best parts of country life are the things you tend to overlook when you're five.

Almost every afternoon, about an hour before sunset, the kids and I go outside and hangout. This is my favorite time of day. We play in the "rock sandbox" (think all rock, no sand)...

We swing...

We water plants, and enjoy the end of the day. We play baseball. We hear the bullfrogs on the lake and wait for the fireflies to make their appearance. Sometimes we go fishing,

and other times we just watch the fish jump at some unseen unfortunate bug on the water. We hear the Canadian geese honk their arrival (or departure), and we squint to see if their babies are with them. Jackson will ask me questions that begin with, "when you were a baby..." or tell me about an adventure he's yet to take. He checks the cows or rides in the jeep with his daddy. We take walks just to find bigger rocks to throw in bigger puddles. We see if our garden has any new veggies for us. We look for the first star in the sky, and wait for its friends to join it. We watch for rabbits who frequent our yard and we talk about how rabbits, as a rule, don't enjoy being chased by screaming children.

Lots of pros.

What cons?

It's a sweet, sweet life.