country living

24 March 2004 @ 12:31
my mood

This morning I woke up to roosters crowing. Not sirens, not my roommate's alarm clock going off fifteen million times, not even psycho dogs scratching at my door. Roosters. It took a few seconds for my brain to register that I was still at my parents house.

My parents live far enough out that their neighbors can have horses and goats and chickens, but not so far out that their neighbors live miles and miles away. The neighborhood is a strange combination of suburbia and farmland. Across the street is a country club with an 18 hole golf course while the next door neighbors have horses for pets. (They are also the only ones in the neighborhood with a fence.) The rest of the houses are back away from the road with a backyard view that isn't intrupted by another house. It's a quiet place.

I'm not used to the quiet. Even when I was in town it was a little unsettling. I could hear my shoes scraping the ground as I walked across a parking lot. There was a man with his son walking along Main Street -- 50 yards or so away -- and I could hear bits of their conversation. I'm sure if there was still snow on the ground it would have crunched under my feet. This is the sound of the world without traffic, car horns, or construction.

This is a far cry from the city.
--Annie

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