Last night Laurie of Speaking of the Heart commented, “Kathy – I love that you live in the boondocks and that I can live vicariously through you!”
That simple statement resulted in huge glee. I love living in the boondocks…and sharing it with whoever wanders by this blog.
“Boondocks” means a remote and undeveloped area. That’s what we are. We live in a cabin in the woods twelve miles from the nearest town of L’Anse which has 2,107 people (as of the 2000 census–heaven knows how many it has now.)
Shall I share a story from long ago? When I was twelve years old my family drove up to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula in a station wagon. We kids slept in the folded-down back seat. (This was before the days of mandatory seatbelts.)
We stayed in a really neat cabin near Mass City, courtesy of friends. It really was a neat cabin. But try to imagine this from a twelve-year-old viewpoint. There was only an outhouse. The mosquitoes and black flies buzzed as big as chickadees and swallowed innocent “downstaters” whole. (“Downstaters” are folks from Lower Michigan. Also known as Berry Pickers.) It was 90 degrees in the backwoods. My mom and I stayed in the cabin reading our novels while the boys and Dad ventured enthusiastically into the woods.
I–honestly–prayed to God to “get me out of this godforsaken place.”
Guess where God decided I should live my life?
Yep. You got it. In this “godforsaken” place. In the boondocks.
Which has turned out to be…paradise in disguise.
We ended up moving here at the tender ages of 21 and 22, newly married, pondering whether we really wanted to relocate to Alaska. We settled in an old house in the farmlands of Pelkie where the toilet froze solid in the winter and our pet was a shower spider named Sarah. (I am not kidding.) OK, we had a dog named Bucky, as well, who was poisoned when he trespassed one too many times on the neighbor’s farm.
I probably prayed to God to get me out of that situation, as well.
But, strangely enough, thirty-two years later we’re still here. We live even further out in the boondocks. (God, apparently, has quite a sense of humor!)
And, you know what? Life is good. It is really good. I would recommend boondock-living for everyone. 🙂