I don’t think they knew what to make of me when I first moved to the country.
You see….I’m a city girl at heart.
I’ve never eaten fresh eggs that came from a chicken I knew.
I’ve never picked my own ears of corn from the stalk.
I’ve never been late because I was driving behind an international harvester.
I’ve never seen a tractor up close or fished from the river or gotten stuck in the mud or gave a tortoise a name or made a walking track around a barn or watched my children play on a hay bale.
Until I moved here.
When we first moved to the country and started remodeling the farmhouse….we had a steady stream of visitors.
They wanted to know why my husband was driving a 40-pane window down the road and what were we going to do with it? And could they have the lace patterned curtains I was getting rid of and why was I painting the fireplace in the kitchen and were we going to get rid of that hot water heater in the butler’s pantry?
And when I told them of my plans and hopes and dreams….they would shake their heads.
But I think I grew on them over time.
One day my friend stopped by for a glass of tea and we talked and talked and talked…….and I couldn’t wait to show her the barn door I hauled out of a broken down barn down the road…….to use for my mantel.
She stared at it and literally rolled her eyes, “A barn door?”
“Really? You made a mantel from a barn door?”
“Are you kidding?” I asked. “Did you see the patina? The age? The beauty? The character?”
“It has such a story to tell.”
“A story……from a barn door? Who does that? Who puts a barn door on a mantel?” she asked in disbelief.
“I do,” I said stubbornly.
And then she smiled and took a long sip of iced tea. “If anyone can make it work….it will be you. I can still remember when you first moved here…..we all thought you were going to be stuck-up.”
I mean….you are from the big city.”
And then you bought the farmhouse….and started tearing everything apart…..and everyone thought you were way too fancy.”
“We were all talking about it….about how your house was going to be so fancy…..and how you were going to have fancy furniture and fancy mirrors and pictures and lamps and rugs…..that you were going to order from stores we never even heard of.”
Then she paused.
“But you know what…..you’re not stuck up……and you love a bargain.”
“Even your front door came from the junk store.”
“I mean we all know……you aren’t fancy at all…..
…..after all….. you don’t have a stitch of new furniture in this whole house.”
No one fancy lives here.
I’m a city girl who loves the country…..who never met a yard sale or a thrift store…..or a junk store front door…..
……she didn’t like.
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