Living in the country is not the same as living in a neighborhood. Wow! That is a stupid thing to write! Of course, they are not the same!
Although we have wonderful neighbors in the country, they live far enough away that I could do my early morning plant watering in my pj's without anyone seeing me.
We live so far away that my hub can be outside and yell for my help, and neither I nor our nearest neighbors hear him.
We live so far away from the neighbors' kids that they don't show up for treats on Halloween.
We live so far away from the newspaper route that the paperman wants a quarter extra for each newspaper he delivers.
We live so far away from anywhere that the postman doesn't deliver our mail. We have to drive into the nearest village to get our mail at the post office.
This is the second time that we have lived at the end of a dead end road. Our nearest neighbor in The Netherlands asked us regularly if we didn't hate the quietness and solitude. No one asks that here in the States, but we like the peacefulness and sounds of the songbirds.
But I miss the charm of a real neighborhood! Tonight when I walked Flip through our son's suburban neighborhood, I realized that I miss the bark of the neighbor's dog. I miss the neighbor kid bringing over some warm yeast rolls fresh out of his mother's oven. I miss saying good morning to the neighbor leaving for work as I fetch my newspaper from the front yard. I miss discussing the weather with the retiree weeding her flowerbed. I miss sitting down for a cup of coffee or tea to gossip about the people who are planning to buy the tacky house down the street. I miss the shaded streets and the acorns that smack you on the head as I walk down the street with our Flip.
I miss the charm of a real neighborhood.