Oh, give me land, lots of land…



A few nights ago, I took this sunset picture just outside of our front yard. It looks like a mountain landscape, but those are just the small hills of ice the water’s been pushing up for almost a month now. 

It got me thinking about how much I love living in a small town. We all have our places we call home. Mine happens to be any place where the population is next to nothing. Case in point, where we live now (hopefully for the foreseeable future) has about 200 permanent residences, and 400 during the summer months. 

I’m a country girl. Hick. Country mouse. Small town girl. City-phobic. 

I have family who relish the city and everything it has to offer. My Granddad’s been living in Toronto since before I was born. He comes to visit me about once a year. He has a hard time sleeping, claims it’s too quiet and the air is too fresh. My other Grandpa lives on a farm. Has his whole life, couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

Same goes for my parents. One lives in a city. The other in a small town. 

When I was in kindergarten we lived in the GTA. It lasted a few months, then back to a small northern town. 

To say I get anxious (not the fun anxious) going to a big city, counting down the minutes till I leave, is pretty accurate. And it’s not just limited to Canadian cities. I could travel the world and would rather see the country side then go to the big cities of whatever country I’d be visiting. 

I’m a smidgen claustrophobic. All those cars. People. Buildings. Noise. It’s too much and I start to feel closed in. I ache to see vast swaths of green fields, and forest. See a few dozen people and hear nothing but birds and crickets. As soon as we leave the highways and tall buildings, I find myself letting out a deep breath I didn’t even know I was holding in.

I can appreciate the city. Understand it’s appeal. The multi-cultralism, activities, different pace of life, landmarks, unique shopping experiences. I do like public transit and like taking the subway. But if I can avoid the trip, I will. 

It works both ways you know. City folk unable to understand how someone could live in a place with no stop lights and one gas station. They think it’s charming, but can’t wait to get back to their part of whatever city they’re from. 

The point is, just finding where you feel at home, like where you are is exactly where you’re meant to be. 








Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s