Why I Love Country Living

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Mrs. Groovy was born in Brooklyn and lived in Manhattan prior to our illustrious marriage. The respective populations of Brooklyn and Manhattan are 2.6 million and 1.63 million.

I was born in Queens and lived in Nassau County until Mrs. Groovy and I moved to North Carolina. The respective populations of Queens and Nassau County are 2.44 million and 1.4 million.

Mrs. Groovy and I currently live in a town called Louisburg. Its population is 3,004. In our corner of Louisburg, we have far more four-legged neighbors than two-legged neighbors.

I ain’t going to lie. Moving from a place teeming with people to a place teeming with cows is the very definition of culture shock. It’s so damn quiet and uneventful.

But Mrs. Groovy and I love it. Part of that has to do with our age. The seventh decade of life doesn’t require nearly as much action as the second, third, and fourth decades of life. The larger part of it, however, has to do with our dispositions: Mrs. Groovy and I simply love simple, unabashed country charm. Here are some examples of what I mean:

Country dogs are weird, but fun, and a little more free-range than their city cousins.

Last year, our farming neighbors grew tobacco. This year they grew southern snow (i.e. cotton).

Here’s the cotton after it’s been harvested—shrink-wrapped in pretty colors and all ready for transportation to the mill.

And, yes, we occasionally get real snow in North Carolina. Here’s some real snow from a few years ago.

Rural North Carolina is much more God-fearing than city North Carolina. And what rural North Carolina town would be complete without a cowboy church?

Jason Brown, Louisburg’s lone celebrity, has a balloon festival every year at his farm. Here are the balloons flying over Groovy Ranch.

If you live in the country, you’re bound to get visits from exotic creatures. Here are two such creatures who visited Groovy Ranch this year—Manny the Mantis and Eddie the Eagle.

Did you know that North Carolina suffers the occasional tornado? I didn’t until I moved down here. A few months back, a funnel started to form across the street. Fortunately, it dissipated, and Groovy Ranch was spared the wrath of nature.

As I mentioned earlier, we have more four-legged neighbors than two-legged neighbors. Cows, in particular, are everywhere. Here are some of our cow neighbors.

Cows also make life interesting in other ways. They sometimes escape. We came across two escaped cows about a month ago. Mrs. Groovy texted the town’s matriarch for help. Martha knew their owner and she quickly alerted him to the breach in his fencing. It’s our understanding that the fugitives were safely returned to their pasture.

Here’s another example of everybody knowing everybody. One day after Mrs. Groovy and I completed our constitutional at Owens Park, a stray beagle appeared out of nowhere and approached us as we were getting into our car. We put the beagle in the backseat and took him to the Dollar Store for Scoobie-Do snacks and to see if anyone might recognize him. Sure enough, the cashier knew whose dog it was and gave us the fellow’s address. Here’s me saying goodbye to our new beagle friend.

Our four-legged neighbors aren’t always cows. Sometimes they’re goats. And they make life interesting as well. Here’s me rescuing a goat that got his head caught in the fence.

Finally, rural North Carolinians aren’t nearly as parochial as my left-leaning brothers and sisters might suppose. In fact, they’re much more “live and let live” than the New Yorkers in New York City and on Long Island. A great example of this is the local building department. Mrs. Groovy and I visited the building department to see what permits were required to build a welding workshop, a gazebo, and a cement platform to mount the bison. The only item that required a permit was the welding workshop. The building department didn’t care about the gazebo and the cement platform.

Another great example of this is my neighbor Mike. I went over one day and told him I was ready to mount Billy Bob on our front lawn. I then tried to tell him that I would consult him on the placement of Billy Bob to make sure its placement didn’t cause any problems. He cut me off mid-sentence: “It’s your property. You do what you want.”

Okay, groovy freedomist, that’s all I got. Have a blessed Hannukah, a merry Christmas, and a very happy New Year. See you next year. Peace.