![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Nanookville
Jul. 9th, 2003 10:33 amStaying for a couple of nights at Baxter's Bed and Breakfast, courtesy of ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ruralrob and emjaybaxter is having an unexpected effect. It makes me realize how much I miss the country.
Guelph isn't exactly a booming metropolis, but it is a city. People who have lived all their lives in such places get comfortable with its anonymity. Sure, they know by name the cashiers at the local grocer. But they can walk down the street, blend into a sea of a hundred faces and not know one, and expect most everyone to leave them alone. They don't have to get along with the noisy people who live upstairs. They can ignore the neighbourhood children.
In the country you can't see your neighbours. But they know you. Your business slips down the road like a black dog at night and scratches at the door. You get used to knowing one another.
When your car breaks down, you turn to your friends nearby. And during those long winter storms with the power out for three days, someone puts a generator on a taboggan and pulls it down the road for everyone to use. You rely on one another, whether you want to or not. You trust one another whether you like it or not.
I remember this from growing up on Poplar Bluff Beach. Life felt that way, too, in the village of Paisley where I lived for 18 months and worked as a newspaper reporter in the nearby town of Hanover. It is essentially like Lake Fletcher, though cottage neighbours aren't quite the same as year-long rural neighbours.
It feels comfortable to me because it's what I'm used to, and I have never grown accustomed to urban anonymity.
Sure, I like having everything I need within a few minutes of home. I like being able to walk down the street for milk, a slice of pizza or a pleasant meal at my favourite Greek restaurant. I'm fortunate to live close to river and woods, so I have nature, too, along with convenience.
But here in Warkworth, Ontario, surrounded by hills, fields and the camaraderie of rural neighbours, I feel something sprouting up inside. It is longing, love and desire, not for a single person, but for the kind of world where I grew up.
Where there are more growing things than pavement. Where the darkness is peaceful and you never hear a single car pass down the gravel road in the night. Where rest finally comes over me and makes me feel like sleeping for a week.
Where I don't live under the illusion that humanity is the most powerful thing in the universe, but know I need people close to me.
Where everyone says hello.
ruralrob and emjaybaxter is having an unexpected effect. It makes me realize how much I miss the country.Guelph isn't exactly a booming metropolis, but it is a city. People who have lived all their lives in such places get comfortable with its anonymity. Sure, they know by name the cashiers at the local grocer. But they can walk down the street, blend into a sea of a hundred faces and not know one, and expect most everyone to leave them alone. They don't have to get along with the noisy people who live upstairs. They can ignore the neighbourhood children.
In the country you can't see your neighbours. But they know you. Your business slips down the road like a black dog at night and scratches at the door. You get used to knowing one another.
When your car breaks down, you turn to your friends nearby. And during those long winter storms with the power out for three days, someone puts a generator on a taboggan and pulls it down the road for everyone to use. You rely on one another, whether you want to or not. You trust one another whether you like it or not.
I remember this from growing up on Poplar Bluff Beach. Life felt that way, too, in the village of Paisley where I lived for 18 months and worked as a newspaper reporter in the nearby town of Hanover. It is essentially like Lake Fletcher, though cottage neighbours aren't quite the same as year-long rural neighbours.
It feels comfortable to me because it's what I'm used to, and I have never grown accustomed to urban anonymity.
Sure, I like having everything I need within a few minutes of home. I like being able to walk down the street for milk, a slice of pizza or a pleasant meal at my favourite Greek restaurant. I'm fortunate to live close to river and woods, so I have nature, too, along with convenience.
But here in Warkworth, Ontario, surrounded by hills, fields and the camaraderie of rural neighbours, I feel something sprouting up inside. It is longing, love and desire, not for a single person, but for the kind of world where I grew up.
Where there are more growing things than pavement. Where the darkness is peaceful and you never hear a single car pass down the gravel road in the night. Where rest finally comes over me and makes me feel like sleeping for a week.
Where I don't live under the illusion that humanity is the most powerful thing in the universe, but know I need people close to me.
Where everyone says hello.
