Being the city girl that I imagine I am, I am still adjusting years later to my move to the Kentucky countryside. It is still a learning experience for me. I have my arms wide open for the nature and the opportunity to live at a slower pace. That song “Old MacDonald’s Farm” is cute, makes it seem all giggles and bells on the farm front, doesn’t it? The song should go into more details in its lyrics. Old Mac didn’t mention foxes eat chickens. He didn’t mention a small dog might disappear if left out in the vast acres of farm lands in which he roams. MacDonald did not mention never ever forget to shut and lock the doors of your coop or else.
He didn’t even mention the cold drafty house would double in draftiness. If draftiness is even a real word that can detail how cold it can be inside an old farm house. Sometimes when I am alone at random times day or night I find myself reflecting on what it actually feels like inside a old farmhouse. I have often likened it to what it must feel like being locked inside a icebox for 10 minutes in the dead of winter. It’s often that cold. MacDonald’s song never mentioned how I would long for summer months – even though I loathe the hellish heat of Kentucky.
My earthy farm, city chic essence feels more like being isolated on an island without the water, or the balmy trees (and warmth). I have had numerous chickens disappear over the unusually cold months of winter, and had my beloved pet vanish too. I look through the trees and out over the hills for hope. To see a little purple dot running along the hill side far away from the house. It hasn’t happened yet. My Chihuahua has vanished and so have several chickens between last winter’s start and this year to day. What has been on going and good is the animals I still enjoy. They still have the luxury of roaming, playing and sniffing around. My six chickens seem to be cautious but happy as they pick and pluck the ground for goodies.
I still have a love for the quiet, when not experiencing the harshness winter has shown me. I see the change in the trees, the ground soil and the wild animals seem all the more joyful. My cats still roam, catch and offer an occasional mouse or small bird by my back door – just to say I love you. city girl mama. The bobtail cat of mine seems to be coming alive in personality – out in the country. He’s pretty boyant as he runs down the tree and onto my bedroom window screen. Country living, I couldn’t beat it by living in the city. Could I? Either way, for now I will keep adjusting and learning as I stay here. I pretty much could teach Old MacDonald a thing about being city on the inside and living country life on the outside.