I had no idea what a good neighbor was until I moved to the country. When I tell you I live in the country, take my word for it. I am 10 miles from a grocery store of sub-standard quality. No fast food/pizza/Chinese delivery is available to us. We don't have cable and the only "high speed" Internet service offered is a satellite, which is debateable and less than dependable at best. And now that I think about it, I'm not real sure we have a "911" system (note to self - ask the hubby about this one). What I do have is awesome neighbors.
I haven't just come to this realization, I've known it since the weekend of July 4, 2002. That's the weekend the pump went out on our well (oh yeah, we don't have "city water" either. Everyone out here has their own well). And that's when I first met the Kecks. I won't go into detail about how our relationship grew just know that it did and that I know if ever I needed ANYTHING I could simply walk through the woods and down my neighbor's drive.
You know, when I lived in Springfield in a sprawling, very well-established neighborhood I didn't even know my neighbors' names. And many of the backyards were equipped with 6 foot high fences so you didn't even have to associate with your neighbors. The houses are so close that in the summer time when your windows are open you can hear everyone talking on the patios outside. But back then, I didn't know any better. I accepted this "neighborly way of living" and I didn't even know I was cramped. I'm wiser now.
It's been a test of patience this week here in the country. My car's been in the shop since Sunday night, the lawn tractor went to the doctor yesterday afternoon and the "farm truck" is at the top of the drive waiting patiently for the starter to be replaced. We don't have a big "spread" here in Bear Creek but going from a 1/4 acre lot in a neighborhood on the outskirts of Washington, DC to 6 acres in the middle of North Carolina did and does present its challenges.
Thank God for good neighbors...