One Year Later . . .

A year ago, we moved out into the country. It isn’t as if we moved to a new planet, but it did present us with a number of challenges and opportunities that required us to adapt and change our outlook. I remember driving up and seeing a huge hole in the yard where the inspector had dug up the septic tank access to inspect it. That was a challenge that we hadn’t planned on for moving day. The seller said, “A couple of scoops with the tractor and you will have that filled in in no time.” My thought was, “Who knows how to drive a tractor?”


I remember spending the first couple of months wondering what happened to my well-ordered life. The next couple of months I ordered everything online so that I could see Ray, the mailman, and Bruce the UPS man and have someone to talk to. Where did all the people go? And then it started snowing, and Gene and I went into survival mode. With the second highest snowfall totals on record, I spent so many hours in the Kubota, that I am now qualified for a commercial snow removal license. Look out Urbana Streets Department! (I have actually seen the Urbana Streets Department which to the best of my knowledge consists of one guy, a can of white paint, a paint roller, and a pick up. But I will say that he did a great job this fall cleaning up before Urbana Corn Days.)

Just as we celebrated the end of winter and the snow melting, mowing season hit. We had the second highest rainfall this summer (do you see a pattern?), and the grass loved it. Two mowers and 3 ½ hours each week and we had the grass mowed. Fortunately, I was already a pro mower, but mowing is really scary here.

Now, fall has approached and we are celebrating not just surviving, but thriving in the country. Gene knows how to drive the tractor . . . I have an opportunity to get a commercial truck drivers license. I no longer hit the dirt when I hear shots fired, or reach for the phone when I smell smoke. I’m not going to say that I have converted to a country girl, but I’m considering adding a cup holder and seat belt for my John Deere to my Christmas List. (Gene cringes at the seat belt request. He seems to think if you need a seat belt for a mower, you are trying to mow a hill that is too steep.)

You will know that I’ve truly gone country when I trade in my SUV for a pickup with a towing package and I wear a ball cap to town. Until then, I will continue entertain myself with writing down all the stories as we learn how to live in the country.