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Carol Perkins: Living in Country IS The Good Life
If you're living here, this column explains why we love it so much. If not, read this and you won't be able stay put - you'll want to move here. In this column Carol Perkins catalogs things we all love so much. Bet at least one will strike a chord with you.
The next earlier column: Carol Perkins: Mean spiritedness at WH Correspondent's Dinner
By Carol Perkins
If you have looked out your window and seen two mama turkeys leading a parade with seven young hens following behind as fast as their little legs would carry them, then you've lived the good life.
If you have stood in mud puddles, with cold, sticky mud squishing between your toes, flexing all ten up and down in the soggy muck until they were totally buried, and then stepped in the dirt around the puddle to clean them off...
If you have walked barefoot through freshly mown grass, feeling the dampness under your feet, jumped from one bale of hay to another, tried to milk a cow, worn a towel around your neck for a Batman or Wonder Woman cape, repelled down a rocky cliff, rolled in a tire, or eaten fresh corn in the field right off the cob....
If you have swung across a ravine on a grapevine and maybe dropped into a frigid river or pond without breaking bones. If you shimmied up a tree as fast as you could to view a field of goldenrod or to hide from your mother if you've taken two cans and turned them into walkie-talkies, made a ball out of rolled up socks or fallen asleep in the porch swing...
If you have sat at your kitchen table and watched redbirds and bluebirds crisscross on their way to a low tree branch, squirrels scurry up a tree, rabbits dash across the yard with their white tails bopping back and forth, and a friendly lizard belly across the sidewalk....
If you have been to the highest point on Mell Ridge and taken in the glorious view, hidden in cornfields for a game of hide and seek, trod through a pumpkin patch in November, watched the sun rise and set, made a flower arrangement out of redbuds and dogwood branches, or lain on a blanket in your backyard and gazed at the stars...
If you have floated down a creek on an inner tube, skipped rocks across a pond, taken off your shoes and waded in a shallow creek, slipping up and falling down in your clothes, or roasted marshmallows on the bank with a group of friends...
If you have walked with your dog down a gravel road, tossing a stick for him to fetch, written your name in the gravel with your shoe, carved your initials in a tree or leaned on a stick for support....
If you have sat on a hillside on the damp ground watching nothing, heard the sound of blackberries hitting the bottom of a bucket, filled a bushel basket with new potatoes you just dug, plucked ripe tomatoes from the vine, or smelled fresh green onions...
If you have listened to the rain on a tin roof, swung on a tire swing, played "He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not " with a daisy, knew the man in the moon was looking back at you, seen familiar shapes in the clouds of dogs, people, or God, tasted fresh peach cobbler, or picked wildflowers that were probably weeds...
If you have seen a rainbow from end to end, sprayed your brother or sister with a hose, touched an electric fence (everyone needs to do this once), been frog gigging, avoided poison ivy, walked through a cow field without stepping in manure, or sucked the honey from honeysuckle...
If you have swung from the rafters in a barn, ridden a calf, gathered eggs from under a hen, played Red Rover, Red Rover, I Dare You Over, made a clubhouse out of a refrigerator box, dug worms and fished with a willow pole, slid down a wet hillside on a piece of cardboard, or caught lightning bugs in a jar...
If you have slithered under a barbwire fence on your stomach, held a butterfly by its wing and then let it go, body rolled down a hill with your arms tucked into your side, crawled through a cave, eaten pinto beans and cornbread, drank at least one sip from The Well, and heard the lonely sound of a whippoorwill....
If you've been on a hayride down a dark, lonely road in the middle of nowhere, sat in a cemetery and told ghost tales, swatted flies with a rolled up paper or a shoe, collected diamond rocks, played a tune on a blade of grass, or searched for four leaf clovers... you've lived the good life.
Living in the country IS The Good Life.
This story was posted on 2018-05-10 08:58:55
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Carol Perkins: Mean spiritedness at WH Correspondent's Dinner
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Carol Perkins: Investigative journalism is hard on the ego
Carol Perkins: My demons must be winning
CAROL PERKINS: The trip to Louisville & the partial plate story
Carol Perkins: The quarter for lunch on the kitchen table
Carol Perkins: Of a mice family & The Incident at Susan's
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Carol Perkins: The story of our fridges
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