Moving to a Small Town

Sixteen years ago my husband and I decided we were done with suburban life. We'd been in the Twin Cities most of our married life. We'd built a house in the south metro, but even after several years we knew few of our neighbors and those we did know didn't share our values. We were lonely, searching for connection, a place where we mattered and others knew us by name.

John, my husband, brought home a book from the library entitled "The Have-More Plan." Written in the 1940s it chronicled the life of a couple from New York who moved rurally and began to raise all their own food, creating a "simpler" life for themselves. It sparked a dream in us. A small place in the country with room for a huge garden, a barn for animals, a few chickens. A place to make memories with our then three girls.

So we drew a semi-circle around the south metro, within driving distance to John's work (an hour each way) and began to look. And look. Some towns just didn't have the right "feel" to them. It's hard to explain, but when no one greets you or offers a wave, you get the sense that being the newcomer might be a hard thing to ever overcome. Finally we found a town where people waved, asked our name. There were more churches than bars here, so we felt fairly confident that the town would have a moral center at least. And the influences we hoped to avoid in raising our children would be minimal. So we set up some viewings, finally settling on a small five-acre spread south of town. The rambler was in need of some TLC, mostly cosmetic other than a water problem in the basement that we fixed. It had a shed for animals, lots of room for a garden and an orchard. It was heaven!

We moved in and set about making the place ours. We tilled and tilled to create a half-acre garden. We planted hundreds of trees--the place had been mostly a windbreak and lots of open space. We fenced a large area for horses, goats and sheep, and a yearly steer. We dug a pond in the back. We got chickens and ducks and rabbits.

We were on our way! In the winter when the snow got deep I would crawl over the fence to care for the animals and when harvest time came I'd be out picking more zucchinis than I ever needed! I canned and pickled, cooked fresh and worked hard. Oh, such good memories.

And here we made friends. We joined the Methodist church in town and people actually talked to us! I went to the library and the librarians remembered my name--okay, we bought our house from the town librarian! It was meant to be a book lover's house. Now, I can't go to the grocery store for a gallon of milk without seeing several people I know who want to stop and chat. And it's wonderful.

Sure, there are some down sides that I'll not go into in this post but the thing we had been looking for--people who knew us and cared--we finally had found.

:)