The last couple of decades living here in a relatively small town (fewer than 2,000 souls populate the town) in America’s Third World County™ have been good. The first 40-*mumble* years of my life I spent mostly in metro areas ranging from a couple of hundred thousand folks to a million and more. The whole county contains around 25,000 folks, with about 60% spread out back in the hills-n-hollers-n-piney woods. . . although there are some areas with more developed farmland.
Although I’ve been leisurely nosing around for 40-80 acres to “get lost in,” just to get away from the crowding and noise of this major metropolis *snerk* where I now live, it is nice to have the neighbors I have now. Example:
Heading on down to the post office, just before the one-lane low-water crossing, a tree had downed a pretty good-sized limb. Traffic coming, I slid on by and once I rounded Joe _____’s place, I made a turn around, to come back and haul the thing off to the side of the road.
A couple of neighbors beat me to it. One was the young(ish) dad of the best kids in the neighborhood* (really!) and the other was his uncle from a bit further on down the street. They had it dragged on off to the side of the road by the time I had turned around and come back.
Good neighbors.
Now, I won’t say things like that NEVER happened in the cities I lived in, in years past, but around here, it’s just normal.
*Yeh, his 9-year-old son is the neighborhood organizer/leader. I had a basketball goal I had taken down (‘cos some drunk had driven off the road and down the hill into our yard, taking the pole out. *shrugs* Son & Heir had stopped using it a few years ago anyway). Asked him if he could use it. Said no, he already had one, but he’d ask around. Came back later with his younger brother, and they took it down to a family with kids who could use it. Another time, he was mowing some of his granddad’s property (a grassed drive beside our house leading to a large storage building just above the creek). He went ahead and mowed my front lawn, too. Uh-huh. One of those times when I had twisted my bad knee again and was using a cane. The kid notices things.
Good neighbors.
I’ll miss them when I move out to live on Goa Way, but not enough to keep me from moving, if I find the place. *heh*
When you move out to Goa Way, be sure to put up some good fences. I hear they make good neighbors, and it sounds like you’ll be leaving some great ones behind.
Funny you should say that. . . I’ve actually thought through what kind of fences I’d need for different functions/parts of a small farmette. One of the nice things about the Ozarks is that gambion walls are nearly free–just a bit of welded wire fencing, some hog rings and rock–since every piece of ground grows LOTS and LOTS of rocks. . . 😉
Sounds like a better neighborhood than the one I’m in. 🙂 Our newest neighbor is probably a good ‘un but the others are meh at best ranging to down right wastes of oxygen.
Oh, we used to have some next door “neighbors” that I’d rather have shot than share oxygen with, but fortunately the bank came along and kicked ’em out. Now, every time I see a cardboard box under the bridge, I hope it’s them.
Current next doors: one side=OK. Other side=Great neighbors. Down the street=good and “gooder”. I might miss some of ’em if I do move on out to a “farmette” but I guess I could always invite ’em out for a cookout or fence-raising *heh*.