Golly another year out and in. Now I know I do things on a much slower scale these days, but darn, I don’t blink that slow. Seems I just blinked and 2015 went scooting out the door and 2016 flew in.
I have had a few letters that I think need some explaining. Folks have been asking me when I moved from the city back out to the farm as the last few ramblings of mine had the farm setting.
Folks I just couldn’t hack it in the big, noisy city, with all those city folk rushing here and there, telling the people behind the store counters off in no uncertain terms, and giving me the evil eye when I tried to find my loose change at the bottom of my purse to pay the exact cash for my groceries.
People just weren’t neighbourly either. When I moved into the area, why no one brought me an apple pie to welcome me, no siree! It was me who fixed up some of my famous konkers (candies) and took them across to a lady I spied out in her front garden.
When I approached she backed towards her front door, threatening me with her garden shovel. I tried to explain to her that I was only being a good neighbour and wanted to meet her. She told me to leave the konkers on the walkway and get off her property. I backed off of her property and noticed when she picked up the konkers I had lovingly placed on my good old foil pie plate, that she sniffed them. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought she was a relative of my Crabby Dog.
Drivers in the city are so impatient. Why I was stopped for a red light, and bent down to try to dig Cranky Cat out from under the seat where she scooted when she stuck her head out the window and got a whiff of those awful smells coming from the backside of buses and cars. All of a sudden I heard this awful blaring coming from outside my car. I sat up in such a hurry; I caught Cranky Cat’s tail in the seat adjuster and tore a hole in my dress on the gear shift. I had no idea what the heck the commotion was, I looked behind and I could only see part of a car, the rest I swear was hidden under my bumper. The driver was making odd movements with his (a women would be much more polite) arms and hands. I couldn’t figure out what the heck was wrong. I was going to get out in case he was having an attack of some kind, when zoom, that driver screeched out from behind and I saw a hand whoosh out the window. I figured he was on the way to the hospital as he was holding one finger in the air—probably getting some air to stop the blood flow.
Before I could check the light a whole line behind me was honking. I then noticed the light was green and proceeded at the speed limit. My window was down, but I still couldn’t hear the nice things folks were yelling as they raced by, and they all seemed to have sore fingers. They sure were more welcoming than that neighbour of mine.
I was only there a short time, before I longed for the fresh barn smell, only found on the farm, the neighbourly people around me, and of course all my farm animals; things I just didn’t discover in those high rises. I also noticed that folks in the country don’t seem to hurt their fingers when driving as much as city folk do.
Hubby Clem is so much more at home here, he can go to a restaurant in his barn clothes and no one seems to notice much. He says he can run around in his long johns freely here where he didn’t dare in the city. So folks if you ever get tired of all the ruckus that city life offers and you want to try God’s country, give me a call, I’d love to treat you to the true call of nature. All the best in 2017. Till next time Klara