View From My Front Porch

On days like today, I’m reminded why I love where I live. It’s the perfect, cozy spot for my family of three (my husband, myself, and our Westie) and honestly, I can’t imagine living anywhere else as of right now. 

What I see when I drive to work!

A year ago, literally to the day, my husband and I started house hunting with the idea in mind that we were just getting our feet wet. We had no intentions of actually finding and buying a home. Of course, no one can really “test the water” in house hunting. I remember my husband coming home from work one day and saying that his coworkers laughed at him when he told them that we were “just looking around” and “getting ideas.” I laugh too, because a month later we had put an offer on a house that had foreclosed earlier that year. Our offer was lower than the asking price and in no way did we suspect that the bank would actually accept our first offer, but they did. The tedious process of buying a foreclosed house is long and definitely will test your patience – which I am lacking of – but, three days before Christmas 2012, we were moving boxes and furniture into our new home (new as in new to us).

Years ago, before the man I married came along and even after we made plans to spend our lives together, I had this fantasy that I would always live in a big city. Growing up, I had always lived in a somewhat smaller town. Up until the 8^th grade I lived in the country on the Cumberland Plateau where it would take thirty minutes to get to Wal-Mart, longer if the 127 Yard Sale was going on. And then after moving down the mountain to the college town where my parents grew up, the area was still too small scale for me. Sure, I loved the farms that my grandparents and uncle owned, the fact that I could smell wild honeysuckle outside, and that my siblings and I could ride our bikes three 

miles down the road to the little corner gas station to get fresh scoped icecream. But, I longed for the tall skyscrapers, the busy streets, the professional atmosphere, and the coffee shops early in the morning.

Beautiful front yard view (all but the power lines).

Three months before I said “I do,” I found out that I would be moving three hours away from my home in Tennessee to a city for my husband’s new job. I thought, “Yes! Finally the big town girl I’ve always wanted to be.” Boy, was I wrong.

We got a two bedroom apartment in one of the nicer sides of town. I literally had two grocery stores less than five minutes away. Restaurants even closer. The houses were gorgeous, the shopping was great. And the traffic was terrible! And the railroad that literally was less than two minutes from our complex was driving me crazy. The train is extremely active where we live, there is no escaping the mile long trains – I think my husband and I counted 140 cars on one train when we got stuck at a railroad crossing.

So when it came time to choose a house, we debated long and hard on which side of town to move to. The developed, overly crowded west side, or the rural and spacious east side. We went with the east.

To a lot of people, our place might not have the most ideal setting. We live on the outskirts of town in a more rural, country area. However, we don’t find the twenty minute drive that bad, although some people dread it. We have an acre of land compared to the little squished yards in other parts of town and the Flint River runs not five minutes from our house. Some people might climb out of the car, see the view and immediately think with a grimace, “the outdoors,” but we love it! I actually don’t have to look out the window and see in my neighbor’s house! To some, close quarters is perfectly fine for them. But I discovered after living in a more city setting, the simple, country life is for me.                                                                      

Cotton fields cover the surrounding fields.

 

There is something in the simplicity of being able to wave at the people passing you on the road; the hills and farms that decorate either side of the street. The fact that when I go into the little diner in the town we live near, I see people who remind me of my late grandfather. At the school where I work, teachers and staff are friendly and a tight knit family, and the school’s events are practically the same as the communities. I love that I get to drive on the roads that are now less traveled. The gray ribbons that wind around the hills and valleys that are forgotten about when compared to the straight shot highways and interstates. It’s perfect!

I can sit outside on my porch in the rocker and just listen to the cicadas, smell the crisp sweet air, and soak in the colorful hills that are lingered with hovering clouds. Why and how can anyone not love it? I keep thinking that if people would just take the time to drive through the area or any area like ours, and they would discover that they too long to move to a secluded place. But then again, some of us do need to be lovers of the city, while a small portion of us need to be lovers of the space and outdoors. If everyone loved my home or ones like it, then there would no longer be the rural communities that are so precious and dear.

 

Wish I had gotten a picture of the early morning smoky fog.

To me, my home is a blessing. I have learned over and over, time and time again, that the plans that I have for myself – my old dreams and fantasies – are not at all what God has designed for my life. Instead, He has the perfect plan. Thankfully, He knew that I needed to be brought back into the simple lifestyle of rural living. And I am grateful that He knew to take control of some things and bring us back such a sweet life. I wouldn’t trade my front and back porch view for anything in the world!