Is it just me or does the field we will soon be residing adjacent to seem to be making a rude hand gesture? Some greeting. For those who don't know, we own the plot of land just to the right of the gestulating hand. Our neighbours across the way own a red dog named "Pal" who barks animatedly every time we drive up. And I am not sure what message he is trying to send us. Is he happy to see us? Or telling us he would rather not have to deal with a new population of little people who will likely use his tail as a bell-pull? Well if he's not happy now, he certainly won't be when we introduce him to our Saint-Bernard. (Yet to be aquired, but greatly desired.)Kinburn. Our new 'hood. This is what I know: there are lots of geese. LOTS. In the spring and fall they fly overheard in countless V-formations, honking and pooping left, right and center. Thankfully, they prefer field to forests or we would have a yard full of noisy, messy bi-annual buddies who would use us briefly only to depart shortly thereafter, leaving naught but poop and feathers behind. . .
Another thing I know is that I plan on making good use of the Carp river that runs behind our property. Once my little offspring have mastered the art of toy boat sailing, having become adept at charting windspeed and navigating through the Carp water currents, we will hold a race. And I will be the obnoxious over-aggressive parent with the bad attitude chanting; "my kids are better than your kids."
I know that we have neighbours I am dying to meet. My motives are pure. It has nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that they live in a beautiful ranch-style house with horses galloping across their land. Nor does it have to do with the fact that I have long harboured a childhood dream of learning how to horseback ride. . .
Um . . . I don't know a whole lot more. I have noticed that Kinburnians seem to find wrought iron cut-outs of cowboys attractive, and prop them up in their gardens and against their houses. They also enjoy plastic, life-sized deer strewn about their yards. If ever one of the above appear in our garden, would you please remove it and give me a good talking-to.
Jokes aside, I hear that they like moms around here, and have wonderful kids programs at the community center. There is a berry farm two minutes away and a local brewery that Aidan will greatly enjoy. These people love hockey, and the outdoor community rink is always hopping in winter. You can see the lights of Mount Packenham ski hill twinkling in the distance, so our kids will be downhill experts by the age of 7. And the land is beautiful. It is open field and old barns; golden corn and lush green barley. I love the way our car kicks up dusty gravel when it makes its way down the road, and the sound of the choir of songbirds who gather when the sun has risen to sing amidst our treetops. . .
I am a city girl who loves the city. I love the noise and pace. And the access to things I love, like friends and coffee shops. But I have a hunger for things the city can't provide. I want my children to play freely. I want to grow a big garden, and eat my own vegetables. I want my husband to have a home out in the country; a way of living he knew as a boy, and has always longed to return to. I want us both to work with our hands, using wood and earth. And I want to grow in the silence. Maybe we will hear things that the city once drowned out. Maybe my busy city soul will slow down and come to know God in ways it never had time to before. I am ready to make the move. And ready to change in the process.
