Green Acres

I just got back from running an errand at the house my mom and step-father own out “in the country” here. I’m not sure of exactly how far from me this place is, but my guess would be around seven miles. It’s certainly no more than ten, and maybe not even seven. It’s been awhile since I’ve gone there, and today I was struck by how geographically close and yet so different two places can be.

We’re smack in the city where we are, but in the Midwest it seems like all you have to do is go a few miles and you’re in the middle of nowhere. I drove past tilled fields and grazing cows, past enormous ponds and rustic red barns. I went from city blocks of houses in neat little rows to huge expanses of land and endless white fences. It felt like a whole new world.

When I got out of my car “in the country” it was raining pretty hard. The land was green and gently rolling and a soft mist covered everything. The air smelled amazing, a combination of the rain, the soil and the indescribable fertility of spring. It was kind of hard to get back in the car and drive back home.

I keep using the quotes around “in the country” because, while it is rural where their house is, it’s by no means “country” by Midwest standards. I have two friends who each live on more than two hundred acres of land. Their lives take place in “the city”, but they go home each night to a property that goes on forever. Now that’s country.


I’m a city girl at heart, but it sure is nice going out to “the country”.