And you can be my cowgirl...

Urban Cowboy...

The past couple of months I've spent a lot of time in the company of a good woman and two zany dogs so deep in the backwoods they still use two tin cans and lots of sting for their Internet connection.  The other day I used my I-Pod Nano to scan for local radio stations and found only three, two of which are country and the other plays Oldies, and by oldies I mean songs from the thirties and forties.  The eighteen thirties and forties.  I've never lived anywhere in America where electrical power goes out when the skies are blue and there's not chance of precipitation for a week or more.  Until now that is.  Seems like the only thing more irregular than my bowel movements around here is the electrical power.  If a cow moos you can lose power for an hour or more.  

Yet for all this community's lack of technological amenities it does possess a certain picturesque charm.  The countryside is beautiful.  Wide open green fields are populated with little more than red or white barns and ancient farmhouses surrounded by large screened in verandas upon which sit wicker furniture and clay flower pots filled with green ferns.  The air apart from smelling fresh and clean is filled with birdsong and the varied sound of insects chirping, chattering and buzzing their secret messages to the skies.  Automobile traffic is almost nonexistent.  You can sit on a front porch and not see a single car for hours upon end.  I can't remember the last time I heard a police siren or the sounds of neighbors fighting.  The quiet is blessed.  You can hear yourself think.  Each moment is a meditation.


People are friendly and with so few forms of electronic distraction available folks are quick to gather around a patio table and share conversation and a cold pitcher of lemonade.  Food is prepared by hand and served upon china plates instead of from a white paper bag bearing the corporate logo of McDonalds or Taco Bell.  Meals are shared whether one contributes to the collection of assembled dishes or not.  Neighbors don't let neighbors go hungry.  

Conversation is a completely different experience in this community.  People talk about canning, fishing and what type of soil is best suited for a particular type of plant.  They talk about their children and the things they're doing in school.  Television shows are something you watch and not talk about once they end.  They don't care about American Idols or dancing celebrities.  The most popular topic of conversation I've heard lately concerns who and what they'll be entering in the upcoming county fairs.  Blue Gill and Catfish are major talking points right now.  Strawberries and Gooseberries are next in popularity and everyone is excited because the berries are coming into season early this year.


Among the joys I'm rediscovering out here is waking up early.  Not because I have to but simply because I want to.  There's so much to see.  I don't want to miss the pair of Hawks hunting in fields that surround the house.  I have to see if the territorial dispute between the Red Cardinal and the Blue Jay has been settled yet.  I want to watch the game between the Sparrows and Sheri's dogs.  The Sparrows gather upon opposite sides of the privacy fence that surrounds the back yard.  One group will fly onto the lawn and begin hunting for bugs.  When the dogs run over to chase and snap at them they will fly back up to the top of the fence while the group of Sparrows on the opposite side drop down and hunt for their breakfast.  Eventually the dogs tire and all the birds drop onto the lawn and enjoy a group breakfast.  It is a hilarious spectacle and I love watching the game while I enjoy my morning coffee.

Country life is being good for me.  It may not be for everyone, but I'm digging the daylights out of it.  I'm finding an inspiration here that I haven't felt for a long time.  I want to write about the experience for awhile and I hope my readers won't find themselves too bored with my hayseed tales.