Becoming Semi-Rural

People who know me well know moving “into the country” represents a break from long-established patterns. I grew up in suburbs. My earliest memories are of the tract home, sidewalk, school down-the-street, mall just-over-there kind of living that defines suburban living. In fact, until 8^th grade, I lived what may be described as the *model* of suburban life --- Southern California; first in Orange County, and then San Diego Country. Beginning in my 8^th grade year, the family packed up the tract home and moved across the country into another tract home into what was then the outskirts of Washington DC, with more sidewalks, schools, malls, etc…

After getting married, we lived in a few apartments while finishing an undergraduate degree. We lived in a 4-plex in Utah, but, anyone would agree that Provo has certain suburban characteristics. Our first house, while not a tract home, was in a tidy neighborhood where people mowed their lawn, installed trampolines, talked about neighborhood activities, and did all those things you’d expect from a suburban neighborhood. Life felt very much like what one would see on TV most nights at the time, though I think one neighbor had a few chickens in the back yard. He was one of the first residents of the block, so we figured he was the last of the rural.

Over the next ~20 years we moved twice. First to Illinois to a tract home in a tidy neighborhood with sidewalks, swing sets, and commuters headed to work every morning. Leaving Illinois, we moved to Tigard, Oregon; on a little street where we lived the suburban dream. Life felt very “Leave it to Beaver” with neighborhood parties, snowmen, 4^th of July kids’ parade, walk to church, and let the kids ride a bike to school on warm days.

The point I want to make is that, at no time, ever, growing up did I live on a farm or spend summers on a relative’s farm. We visited some distant relatives one summer before my last year of highschool. If memory serves, they lived off a dirt road. They threw horseshoes. They talked excitedly about going to the county fair at the end of summer. At the time I was already wearing a tie at my summer job. I felt very little in common with these country people. I was city people.  The first time a rode a horse was in my 30s. I have never owned a gun. I have never been a fix-er-up kind of guy. I take my car to the shop. Mr Middle-Class White-guy Suburban.

That’s me.

It was me.

It might still be me.

But, last year I moved out of the suburbs and into a home off a dirt road with 6.2 acres or trees and blackberry bushes about 15 miles outside what I would call ‘town.’ It’s not really ‘rural’ where people live miles from other homes and everyone has crops and farm animals; but it’s definitely not the old neighborhood.

I should have started this blog right when we discovered the property to record everything right when it happened, but I didn’t. Instead, you’ll get a stream of events and stories in no particular order. Some will be recent, while others will be from our first year of living semi-rural. We learned a lot in the first year, and I am sure there is much more to learn. It has mostly been fun, though there were some negative surprises. I wouldn’t change the decision and I’m really, really happy where we are, but it is a bit different than how I grew up.