“Come see what I built!”
It was an invitation from my then almost-9-year-old son to visit the space he had built for himself to ‘get away from it all’. He led me carefully through one of the many patches of undergrowth near our little cabin, thick with salmon berries just starting to bud with bright green leaves (and sticky thorns). Then we came upon it – a tiny little hut, built with intricate layers of windfall branches and ferns, its entrance hidden by a particularly dense spray of hemlock.
“It’s where I can lie and listen to the sounds of the forest, and the songs of the birds.”
And right then I knew my decision to leave our city life behind was the right one.
I always thought I'd move out of the city when I children joined my life. I just didn't realize what a huge difference it would make to my son - or myself.
I grew up in a rural community – in a subdivision, mind you, but in a district where only 20,000 people lived along a narrow strip of land stretching 70 miles along the rocky coast. Bears visited our backyard regularly, and we spent our weekends in the mountains, exploring abandoned logging camps and old First Nations villages, hiking to extinct volcanic craters, and riding dirt bikes in the empty lots down the street. We learned all the native edible and medicinal plants, the names of all the trees towering above, and which wild birds like which sorts of native berries. We fished, rode motorbikes, and got dirty. In other words, we spent most of our waking hours outside.
When my son was born in 2003 and we ended up in a townhouse on a busy road in the city, all those amazing childhood experiences came flooding back - and I realized, sadly, that his life was going to be very different. His school days would be interrupted by sirens and construction projects, he'd have to sidestep doggy doo (and other nasties) every time he went for a walk in the forest, and he'd never really know the joys of silence. For his own memories' sake, I wanted him to know a summer day where all you can hear is crickets, the rustling of the wind in dry, tall grass, and the distant hum of a float plane buzzing to some far flung island. The chance of experiencing any of that living in a townhouse? Nada.
I loved so many things about our city, nestled between sea and mountain, but getting my little guy out into 'nature' was an more of an effort than I was able to pull off most days. During my maternity leave, we'd hop on the bus and spend our days in the forest (with him on my back in a carrier) but once I went back to work, there just never seemed to be enough time. Moving closer to the nature was out of the question - real estate in our part of the world is crazy at best - the average home price at the time was somewhere around $800K. Decent townhouses closer to the forest on a quiet street? About $600K. So it was either noisy townhouse or the alternative - moving - and I struggled with it every single day.
It was when he got a little older and I'd find him entranced by the comings and goings of ants and wood bugs that I decided that this child was born to be in the country. He just oozed it. His first word wasn't 'cat' or 'juice', but 'moon'. So I started planning for a very different life... a life somewhere quieter where he could become who he was meant to be, without distraction.
Now, we could have moved anywhere, but it was important that my guy be close to his grandparents. In other words, our choice was pretty simple - we moved back to my hometown, only a 40 minute ferry ride, but what felt like a world, away. It was 2008, and I had no idea how I was going to make it work, but I'd been building my skill set for years and studying everything I could get my hands on that had anything to do with rural living, homesteading and the transition from city to country living. Was I terrified? Um... yeah. But terror slowly turned to 'I can do this!', and we never looked back.
So here we are, just over 4 years later, well ensconced into a new/old life in the forest. My son attends a Waldorf School surrounded by trees and streams, and right across a quiet country road from the beach. He gets to see his grandparents pretty much every day - something I never experienced in my own childhood - and spends his non-school time listening to the wind in the trees, collecting and studying bugs and other critters, and communing with our flock of 20 chickens (17 hens and three roosters, to be exact). And now that we've been here awhile, the benefits of the move are becoming clearer every single day.
First off, please know that I'm no child development expert and I can't tell you conclusively that living in the country is any 'better' than living in the city, as they both clearly have their pros and cons, but there are a few things I've observed over the past 4 years that I think are worth noting:
Of course, as with anything worth exploring, there are downsides, but in our experience, the great things that have come from our move out of the city far outweigh the negatives, which are, well, pretty much non-existent. Sure sometimes it's a struggle to get everything done, the power goes out a lot, and we don't have any neighbours at all, let alone with children, so spontaneous play with other kids is sort of out of the question, but even with all that, I can't imagine living anywhere else. I'll let Jonah wrap it up: Why I Like Living in the Country
Are you planning a move to the country with your children? Do you have any concerns or worries? If so, leave us a comment on the blog or on Facebook to hear from others who've made the move and are loving it... it's a super supportive group and we love sharing what we've learned. See you there!
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