Sweet Country Life

I haven't written for a while, and the reason is that I started a new job.  That, and the fact that we also started construction on our house.  You can see the progress at our business blog, which I have a link for at the bottom of this blog.  It's coming along fast, but it's been a ton of work for my husband.  For me?  Well, I pretty much just pick out faucets and bathtubs and light fixtures, but it DOES require a lot of thought! :-)

My job, though, is going great.  I'm teaching K4 in a Title I school in an area that is most accurately described as.... rural.  And I actually love it.  On my drive to work, which takes about 25 minutes, I go through only one red light, and it's less than a mile from where I live. (However, they are putting in a four-way stop on the highway in September, so I will have to start stopping there!)  On the way, I pass peach orchards, tractors (lots of tractors), cows (LOTS of cows), and old farmers selling watermelons, tomatoes, and lemonade at roadside stands.  There's one house I look at every morning because the old man is either putting out his peaches on his stand in the front yard, or he's already got them ready and he, his wife, and several friends are sitting in chairs in the carport just visiting.  I'm always just a little jealous because they look like they are having a good time!  Maybe one day I'll pull over and ask if I can join them :-)

The kids in my class are just precious, and I have to admit that I kind of love the fact that they AREN'T the children of all the people I went to high school with!  It's nice sometimes when people DON'T know the teacher quite so well, because it makes those parent-teacher conferences just a little less awkward.  Everybody has been really nice and helpful to me since, even though I live in a nearby small town, I don't know this area as well. 

Last week, I had to stop at a tiny gas station just as I left school because my tank was beyond empty.  I'm a little spoiled to the pumps at the gas station near my house where you just swipe your card at the pump and never have to go in, so I wasn't too thrilled about the old pumps that looked like they came straight out of the Andy Griffith Show.  But like I said, I was beyond empty, so it really wasn't up for debate!  By the time I went in, gave the man my card, went back out and pumped gas, and went back in to get my card, the door had been held for me by no less than 4 men.  They all stepped way back, opened the door with a flourish, and grinned at me from under their ball caps.  One even said, "Come on out, gal!" which I loved because I just love to hear old men say, "Gal."  Even though I live in the South, where chivalry is alive and well and this kind of behavior is expected, it was nice to be reminded that it tends to be most vibrant in small, country communities.  My own small town is no exception, but you know, I got the feeling that they actually noticed that I wasn't from around there, and I think they went the extra mile to make me feel welcome. 

And that, my friends, is why I've never once wanted to be a city girl! 

And so it begins...

I have astonishing news.  I can barely believe it myself, seeing as how we have owned the property and worked toward this for over a year, and dreamed about it for much longer but....




..... on July 7, 2010 (which now was yesterday) we actually broke ground on the new house.


And by broke ground I mean my husband rode around on pieces of large machinery and dug a huge hole where the foundation will be.

Now since he's doing a lot of the work himself, our building project may take a little longer than one built by the big builders that go in and build entire neighborhoods, but that's ok.  (Ok, let me clarify... that's ok within REASON! I do have my limits.)

But it's been STARTED.  And it's OUR HOUSE!!  Soon I will actually have room to breathe, and I'll have CLOSET SPACE, and my cat will become an outdoor kitty (I've told her, but so far she hasn't seemed interested in that fact) so I'll no longer be vacuuming tufts of black hair that blow across the floor like tumbleweeds.  And I'll have room to get my KitchenAid mixer out of the box and actually use it.  And I'll have an actual porch to sit on and read books and sip tea, and water my many, many plants that I'll plant.  Oh, how I've missed having a porch.  And a tub.  Do you KNOW how long it's been since I've been able to stretch out in a warm bubble bath??  DO YOU??? 

I know it's all still a long way off now, but since we now have a hole, aren't I allowed to be just a LITTLE excited? 

Yesterday we had a vacant lot.  Now we have a hole.  Soon we'll have a home.  I can't wait to start posting pictures of the progress!

Lightning bug in my room

Last night a lightning bug decided to take up residence in my room.  Some people like to call them fireflies, but I call them lightning bugs.  Always have, always will.  I discovered the presence of my visitor when I turned out the lights and, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a flash above the tv.  Then it did it again, and I knew instantly what it was.  If you don't have lightning bugs where you live, you might be surprised how BRIGHT they actually are, especially in a dark room!  I tried to ignore it, but I kept opening one eye and then I'd see it again.... FLASH......... FLASH....... it had to go.  I got a dryer sheet from the trashcan nearby and tried to catch it in that so I could put it outside.  Unfortunately, I was a little overzealous in my grab, and I squished it.  It reminded me of being little and catching lightning bugs in the yard, and my aunt told me, "Pinch their tails off and rub it on your fingernails like nail polish!"  Now I'm not sure why I thought that sounded like a good idea, but I did it, and it was not really all that pleasant.  Lightning bugs don't smell that great, and I'm pretty sure they have feelings and don't enjoy having their tails pinched off.  My poor night visitor lightning bug was laid to rest in the trash can, which made me a little sad because there's not much prettier than an open field on a summer evening twinkling with lightning bugs.  There's something amazing about a tiny, living creature that can light up... as long as they stay outside where they belong!

Hatbox worthy

I have a lavender hatbox that stays under my bed. I got it years (and years) ago when I was in high school. Back then, I used it to keep things that were important to me. Notes passed from friends during class containing silly inside jokes went in the box. Notes from boyfriends went in, too. Corsages from the two proms I attended found their way into the box, along with pictures of friends and fun times. Eventually it got quite stuffed, and when I went away to college, it went into the attic. There it stayed for a number of years, holding all those memories that had seemed so important those years ago.


Not too long ago, I went up in my parents attic and got down the hatbox. I got a laugh at some of the things people had written to me in all those notes. It was fun, but they didn’t really hold any value for me anymore, and I couldn’t see tying up the space in keeping them. The corsages were dry and discolored, and besides, that romance was long gone and not missed. I found out that just because a boy tells you he loves you doesn’t mean that he doesn’t also love another girl, or several other girls. I found out that sometimes you forget what was behind the inside jokes that seems so hilarious at the time. Some of the pictures I kept, but most of them didn’t seem all that important anymore. I cleaned out the box and started from scratch.

In went the obituary for my precious, precious Mema. In went the pictures of her and my grandpa just two years before her death, at their 50th anniversary, because I can’t look at them yet. In went the bulletin for the last church service she was ever able to attend. In went all the cards and letters I had saved from my husband, who has quite a way with words for a country boy. The ticket stubs from our honeymoon Savannah riverboat dinner cruise also found their way in there. A few of my bridal portraits that I haven’t found the right place for. My grandmother’s handkerchief, my “something borrowed” which she insisted I keep. Some dried petals from her funeral. In went cards written to me by special people at special times in my life; my 18th birthday, my college graduation, my wedding. I think about how things are different in my box now, but somewhat the same. It’s still filled with pictures and written words, and tokens of remembrance. Only some of the names and faces have changed. One day I hope to put pictures of my children in there. Cards and pictures they will make for me. Mementos from this life that changes, but somehow still stays the same. But as always, not just anything can go into the hatbox. After all, it’s a small box, and space is limited and precious. When it’s something that wouldn’t be worth a penny to anybody else but means the world to you, that’s when you know it’s hatbox worthy.

Making my case for my hometown

I've lived in the same small town all my life.  It's a little bit like Mayberry, except now we have a McDonald's, Burger King, Taco Bell, Food Lion, and two Chinese restaurants.  Our town was built around a train depot, so we still have quite a few tracks running through, although trains don't come by as often anymore.  We've got a volunteer fire department, where my husband volunteers.  And it's not all that unusual to see someone driving through town on a tractor.
A lot of people I went to school with always moaned and groaned and complained about getting out of here at the first possible opportunity.  I guess that's fine for them, except I've noticed that a lot of the ones who left have started to trickle back.  I don't ever remember thinking that I wanted to leave, because this is home.  This is where I lived so close to my schools I could have walked (if I had gotten up early enough for that kind of thing) and where I've spent all but the first four years of my life as a member of the First Baptist Church.  This is where I cheered for the little league football team and rode in the Christmas parades shaking my pom poms and tossing out candy.  This is where my childhood best friend's mom owned a furniture store on main street, and where as children we went every day after school and ran up and down the sidewalks, getting ice cream from the snack counter at the drugstore that has not changed a bit since about 1950.
This is also where you can drive about a mile or two away from my house and you start seeing the hazy blue silhouette of the Blue Ridge mountains.  About another 30 minutes or so you can be in those mountains.  My husband and I drove up and spent the weekend in lovely Hendersonville, NC a few weeks ago, and I commented as we drove up the mountain under cool, shady branches and surrounded by ferns and the occasional trickling waterfall, "Some people have never even been to mountains like these, and they don't have any idea what they're missing."  These mountains aren't barren and rocky.  They are rolling, and lush, and green, and the few exposed rocks are often covered by moss.  My husband proposed to me at Pearson's Falls, a gorgeous waterfall not too far from where we live, and right down the road from my great-grandfather's mountain cottage, and it could not have been a more perfect place.

Here's the main fall... beautiful!

      And you walk up to the main fall along a trail beside these small, drippy, mossy waterfalls that are so incredibly peaceful.

I can't imagine living where I couldn't just jump in the car and go up to those mountains.

Besides those mountains, we're not all that far from the beach either.  About 3 and a half hours, and you can be on the sand.  I've always adored going to Myrtle Beach because it's nostalgic for me, but Charleston really has my heart.  Savannah, GA is lovely too, and it may be my second love, but Charleston is truly the crown jewel of the south.  The cobblestone streets, the majestic mansions on the battery, the breezy verandas, the haunting old trees, the rich history, the sweetgrass baskets, and the amazing seafood... you just can't beat it!  Unless you've seen Charleston, you can't believe how beautiful it is.  Pictures don't really do it justice, but I plan to do a whole post on Charleston in the future.  

To close, I just want you to imagine something.  Imagine sitting in a rocking chair sipping lemonade as the sun sets, with a slight balmy breeze and the sounds of thousands of bugs singing to each other as the lightning bugs begin their dance in the field.  That's how we spend our summer evenings here.  Now don't you want to come on down?? :-)