Rural Gifts

60: (September 2024)

A weekend recently spent in Philadelphia prompted me to reflect on how my choice to live in a very rural part of the United States has affected my life. I spent my first 33 years — which happens to be exactly half my age — in big cities or  suburbs, so it seemed timely to consider the question of what has been gained or lost as a result of that initial decision and continued commitment to live in rural New Hampshire.

Among the many things gained, the one that rises to the top is that living in the country has afforded me the opportunity to form a meaningful connection with nature. I am no longer just a bystander, but in a relationship that’s deepened over the years as I’ve sought to understand the ways of the earth, as well as its many nonhuman inhabitants. It’s been a slow dance that has both challenged and nourished me over the past 33 years since moving from Manhattan and downtown Boston to my small town of about 1,400 people.

Rural gifts have come in many forms. My eyes behold the majesty of trees virtually everywhere, changing colors, moving with the wind, demonstrating resilience. My ears wake up to the magnificent music of early morning birdsong which rivals that of any symphony, and soak up the silence in quiet moments before the cricket chorus begins for the night. My soul finds joy in the interaction that flowers have with pollinators of all sorts, and with birds that sway on their stalks in late summer, as beaks search seed heads for food.

Nature’s lessons abound, from learning to appreciate what it takes for vegetable seeds to transform themselves into food for my family, to cultivating patience so I can relish the sweetness of fruits ripened on apple, peach, and cherry trees that were planted years ago. My body, mind, and spirit have become attuned to nature’s dormant periods too, accepting how necessary they can be for sustenance or to birth new life. To everything there really is a season.

I haven’t had the synergies that a vibrant city can foster between diverse peoples who are all living and working together in close proximity, or the convenience of easy access to resources, jobs, restaurants, and such, but I am happy with the trade-off. I have received and continue to receive enduring gifts, as rural life allows me to slowly weave a life with that of the natural world. It brings me peace: a true blessing.

40: (September 2004)

I lamented to a friend how weary I was of the skunk that had taken up residence under my screen porch a few weeks ago. She suggested I get coyote urine to scare it away. I have to admit that this was a solution that never would have occurred to me. This type of purchase has not been within the scope of my lifetime of shopping experiences.

Ever open to new wildlife management possibilities, I went to the feed store and asked for the urine. Now I have to wonder, has anyone ever been able to enter a store and ask for this product with a straight face? This was something I was not able to accomplish. To add to my amusement, I was told that coyote urine was on sale. Yes, indeed, a $15, large economy bottle was on sale for just one dollar. I quickly snapped that up, but upon further discussion with the saleswoman, I found out that fox urine was actually superior in scaring skunks. I love a good sale though, so I held onto the coyote product. We figured it was worth a try, because as luck would have it, they were all out of fox urine.

This impromptu science project was turning out to be more interesting and informative than I had thought, so I next inquired if there was any type of urine that would scare away rats. The rat population in my barn is threatening to create a cave-in of the clay floor under the rubber floor mats; they are industrious in tunneling around to find ever more ways to get into the duck’s pen to eat her grain. I was advised that bobcat urine was the solution for that, so I added that to my arsenal. Dubious, but hopeful, I asked whether there was any type of urine to ward off bears, as there had been a rather large one wandering around in my backyard just days earlier in broad daylight. Alas, I came up empty-handed on that one.

Armed with my new purchases, I will go forth and pour these fluids into dangling plastic bottles and then hang them around my screen porch and barn. I hope this strategy works. It’s either them or me, winner take all.

60-40:

Yes, learning to live with nature has indeed been a process. Harmonizing with nature instead of attempting to lord over it is a worthy goal, and wildlife and I continue to figure out how to give each other some space!

A family of deer ate virtually half of the flowers and flowering shrubs growing in my gardens this summer. It was disappointing, but in the end, there was plenty to go around. The flowers they left behind flourished more than they usually do, and those they ate will probably come back stronger than ever next year. Yet another of nature’s gifts: the lesson of abundance.

Even more, I got to enjoy seeing these beautiful animals wander about in our pasture and yard, and took pleasure in the fact that they too like to spend time on this piece of land we’ve been tending. I was able to observe the twin fawns that were born on the edge of the pasture grow stronger with each passing week, as their spots faded. My heart is full. What more can I ask of life?