So, you’ve decided to move to the country whether intentionally or inadvertently…
If you are anything like our directionally challenged family, you accidently discovered the beautiful and scenic town of Copperopolis by way of “honey, I think we took a wrong turn somewhere back there” - a spontaneous scenic drive up Highway 108 gone awry. Or you may have found Copperopolis by cleverly locating our newly acquired and highly coveted town “dot” on a California State road map. If you admit to using a map you might be a newcomer but if you remember the population sign at 150 you are definitely an old timer. However you managed to find our little slice of heaven lovingly referred to as “Copper,” we welcome you to small town country life.
My first clue that I had moved to the country should have been the cattle drive on 108 that conveniently stopped all lanes of traffic, allowing a pageantry of bovine beauties to pass within a few feet of my vehicle. In case I didn’t catch that fragrant hint, the country generously handed me a couple more clues.
Upon arrival at my new home in Copper, I stood in my front yard basking in the joy of new home ownership while enjoying the stunning view of… tumbleweeds lazily rolling by. Hmm, not quite the view I was expecting. Within minutes of my tumbleweed experience, I thought I heard yelling in the distance. I looked around to see a bearded, flannel clad man about an acre away frantically waving his arms hollering, “Watch out for rattlers!” Figuratively I scratched my head and wondered ‘What the heck are rattlers?’ When it finally dawned on me what rattlers were, I went into full panic mode - not a pretty sight. We city slickers had come to see our new humble country abode in sandals, shorts, and tank tops. It was after all as hot as the surface of the sun here. I turned to my husband and said, “So, you moved us to Tombstone, Wyatt?” dripping with sarcasm, and sweat, of course.
The first few evenings were so beautiful and quiet, so quiet I couldn’t sleep. No street noise, no neighbors loud music, nothing. Just a deafening silence. That is not an oxymoron in my country dictionary, no matter what the English experts may say. My country dictionary also has sweet cow and pretty hog. Evidently those are not oxymorons either. I’m telling you, it’s mighty difficult to sleep through all that annoying peace and quiet.
Just when I got use to sleeping through the dead silence, it was pup season, as in coyote and fox pups. Back to sleep deprivation again. I had never heard of a coyote stealing a baby but my sleep deprived brain was thinking if a dingo can…
Until next time…welcome to the country.
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