It's been just over one year from our move to rural life from the city. I joke that we arrived with our personal belongings, furniture, a snow shovel and a push mower.
Of course, I am lying about the push mower. We knew it would be useless here and it was left behind for the wee lawn we left behind in the city. The snow shovel proved pretty useless as well for three hundred feet of driveway. We required much bigger toys for the job.
I have been surprised with the most amazing comments from rural and urban folk about how they perceive our experience. Still, I found myself hearing the same thing over and over again:
" What a BIG change for you", to answering the same thing over and over again:
" It's not as big as you think." Because really the structure of day to day life, getting up, eating, going to school/work, gathering for dinner, the basics stay the same.
The kids get on a school bus every morning and whereas before one of them took public transit and one walked or rather ran five doors down to the school. (She still runs for the bus)
It is a little farther to get to a large grocery store but not by much. It is very nice to buy right from the farm.
The town is five minutes away by car, a one half hour walk and a easy bike ride away.
I can get fresh salmon, artisan chocolates, a spa treatment,and a hammer and nails there. (Obviously not at the same place!)
Sadly and it pains me to say it - no sushi.
Before we left I would lie in bed at night in the dark by myself (dh was in Asia) and try to picture myself lying in the dark in our new country home. From where I lay I could see the street light from the road but it was pretty quiet. I imagined it would somehow be darker and quieter in the country. (I was right)
I also imagined nothing around the house, unlike where I was with houses three feet on either side and a whole neighbourhood around me. I imagined that I would be nervous about this. (I was wrong)
For one thing I found that most people define "nothing" as no visible houses or retail shopping. One friend, who was the most perplexed about the move, angry even, would often comment,
"But you are in the middle of NOWHERE" She is horrified by this to this day, her perception of nowhere.
Well, we live on a road. We have woods on either side so that we can't see my neighbours. (But you would be surprised how you can hear how well party noise travels through 1000 feet of trees!)
We are a one hour drive to the big city in good traffic. (Is that an oxymoron - "good traffic"?) and twenty minutes to three decent sized cities/large towns in three different directions.
That I guess, is NOWHERE.
I read once that Canadians are the only people that refer to distance by the time it takes to get somewhere, as I've referred to here. Is this true?
It would explain why measuring distance here was confounding at first. When I got in my car in the city or travelled on foot, I knew how far I could travel in ten minutes. I knew the landmarks and I knew where time would get me.
In the country I could travel those same ten minutes and think wow, this is taking a long time to get to my destination. It seemed like I was traveling a longer amount of time. Of course I was going faster and covering more ground. I needed to. But it didn't necessarily take any longer. This was the funniest thing to me at first.
The same diversity of people surround me, although it is not the ethnic melting pot that Toronto is.
I have a bona fide red neck backyard (and sideyard, sadly visible as well) for a neighbour, as well as a very large weekend estate. These two properties actually face each other. This pleases me in a perverse way.
There are many little things that do change. Although how little I guess, is subjective.
The first time I ran the tap for any length of time and heard the pump. The pump that draws the water from the well. I remember that very clearly. It was all part of a new realization of how connected we were to our surroundings. Our well, our heat, how we dispose of our waste water ( "don't pour that down the kitchen sink, it goes into the grey water system that feeds the garden") was all our responsibility.
No service automatically picks up your garbage or recycling. You compost yourself.
I don't need to use my inhaler for summer smog - because there isn't any!
I really like not having to pay for parking every time I stop the car. This saves a lot of money but as I mentioned at the beginning of this post you spend your money on other things, like large machinery and horrific gas powered tools.(Every male's dream come true)
My car will never be clean again. People around here have been known to purchase a new car by asking first, "Does that one come in Dirt Road Beige?"
The kids friends are just the same kind of kids as in the city.
Littlest spend time last summer at a friend's cottage where there was a visitor from Beijing, soaking up the Canadian cottage experience. Upon seeing the teenage antics she sighed, "Kids are the same everywhere"
But you bloggers knew that anyway. It just surprises me how many people don't. How we are perceived as different because we come from the city, although many locals have come from there themselves, and many commute to work there still.
I miss my gym the most. I have not found the equivalent here and yoga classes have been more sporadic than I like. (This is only because I am too picky)
I am sure there are other things but that's all I can think of for now.
I liked living in the city. I like living in the country. I am fortunate that I have had an opportunity to do both.
I have been mentally biting my tongue writing this post trying hard not to apologise for ignoring the blog lately. I know I don't have to apologise. I know you don't need to read it. (But there you have!)
It's funny to me considering how much I have been writing lately, just not this blog. (And no, I'm not sharing with the class.)
I'll leave you with a photo of
Toasty,(PDF) for
Rebecca. She had made Toast at the same time, I think and mine are made with yarn, Debbie Bliss silk, that she sent to me. Thank you again, Rebecca.
Ironically, these photos were taken on a record-breaking warm day, when such accessories were not necessary. But it is March in Ontario after all, and I'm not fooled by a little meltdown.
