The Best of Two Worlds
I grew up in suburbia, where I would run down the street to play with the neighborhood kids, walk a couple of blocks to a nearby park or a friend’s house, or hop on my bike and ride to the library or tennis court. My piano lessons were down the street from where I lived (and I do mean down because we lived at the top of a hill), and I used to walk home in the dark and gaze into the starry sky. I particularly remember focusing on the constellation of Orion ahead of me as I walked up the hill on those winter evenings of early darkness.
Yet, as an adult, I was drawn to rural places (it must have been all the Little House books I read by Laura Ingalls Wilder) and made my home in a small (pop. 4,000), quiet hill town. We lived there for 37 years. I loved it there. It was all I ever dreamed of. I didn’t think I’d ever leave—until the call of the Sirens (i.e., grandbabies). My children all settled in suburbia and began their families. And, between naptimes and early bedtimes, traveling an hour or so back “home,” for visits was not happening. So, back to suburbia, we went. We found a home midway between our two children who stayed in Massachusetts; we will still travel to Connecticut for visits with our oldest and her family, who have a sweet little life there.
And now, in our new townhouse (I never thought I’d choose to live in a townhouse, but changing priorities made it quite appealing), the country gal in me is still seeking out the wild places. The one blog post I wrote this month (hey, it’s more than I wrote last month!) is about that. I’m finding it kind of magical that I’ve been plopped into a home that is the best of both worlds. There is community here, and sidewalks, and an upcoming block party, and the glow of street lights, and Orion in the sky above me as I walk my dog at night. It feels safe here to do that, just as I felt safe walking alone in my childhood neighborhood, and it felt that way before I remembered that, duh, this is a gated community. (I don’t love that part of this place; it’s kind of a pain.)
Alongside being back in “civilization,” since here, I’ve run into a fishercat and 3 white-tailed deer on my walks with Buddy and a fox and turkey crossing the road while driving. The first night we slept here, the loudest tree frog I’ve ever heard (and we had them in Princeton) was “screaming” as I stepped onto the deck. Plus, there are a nice variety of birds. And, in those times with Buddy on the walking trails, I’ve found my wonderful dandelions, lots of white pine, a stream full of skunk cabbage, a pond, and more wildness yet to be discovered and noticed.
So, the bottom line is that this place feels like a combination of Winchester, where my husband and I grew up, and Princeton, where we chose to live and raise our family. And I continue to be delighted by finding yet another thing I love about the place.
The life lesson for me in all of this is that you don’t really “know” a place until you spend some time in it. I had different ideas of what it would be like here (I never expected as much wildness). I think that’s true for anything. We have to experience something to truly “know” it. Outside of that, it’s all speculation or judgment.
In closing…
Happy Earth Month (I missed sending this on the actual day)! I hope to get on the other side of the unpacking soon, so I can sit down to write more often. As it is, I’m squeaking this newsletter out on THE LAST POSSIBLE day to call it an April Newsletter. Phew!
Until next month.
Peace and herbal blessings,
Chris
Awe… Congratulations! I’m very happy for you both. Have a Wonderful Summer
Congratulations!!!!!!! I’m so happy for you both and am glad you’re enjoying your new home more than you expected. ☺️