Damp

The past week, and the entirety of this weekend (thus far) has been rainy and cool. This is part of spring in this section of the country, of course, but it gets old. It also illustrates one of the limitations of country life: Most of the year, in both sun and snow, there is something attractive about spending time outside. But this type of weather is really just... Damp. The ground is saturated, the moisture clings to you when you are outside. It's not inviting.

Of course, the glass-half-full way of looking at this is to consider it an opportunity to enjoy some quiet time, alone or with family, reading, writing, or catching up on episodes of favorite shows. Our old house offers spaces for each of those activities. With the multiple rooms and amount of space in the home, there's room to gather if you like, but also multiple spaces offering a quiet, secluded nook if that's what you prefer.

The struggle comes when what one would prefer is a space to move around and do something more active. Because of its 19th century design, the house is big, but holds many rooms within that space. There are larger rooms on the main floor, but once furniture is in place there's not a great deal of room for continuous movement (e.g. For something like a martial arts form).

This isn't, of course, much of an issue after a couple of days of rain. After a week of it, though, it is something one becomes more aware of.

Spring Birds

One of the delights of life out on the Homestead is the veritable orgy of birdsong in early Spring. This recording was made yesterday morning, standing in the back yard with an iPhone in the air (you can hear the spring winds in this in addition to the birds).

Joining the array of LBB's and Cardinals that remain year round are the Mourning Doves, Robins, and one of my favorites, the Red Wing Blackbird.

In addition to the delight of the birdsong itself, the sudden preponderance of avian activity whips both the dogs and the cat into a frenzy of activity. Outdoors the herding dogs make great efforts to "guide" the flocks of birds from tree to tree, while indoors Malcolm the cat sprints from window to window (and we have a lot of windows) in an effort to see and, one strongly suspects, in hopes of catching an errant bird that might, somehow, wander in through the glass.

Spring Snow

When I awoke this morning this was the view out the window at the top of the back steps:

This is the latest I have ever seen snow on the ground in this area. Occasionally we'll see bits of wintry mix - snow intermingled with rain - in early spring, but this is unusual. It doesn't usually stick.

It won't last, of course. The mist in the distance is the snow sublimating away in the morning sun, and open patches are already appearing in the field to the south. The high today is projected at 50°, so everything that isn't in northern shade will likely be gone by midday.

Still, it's like winter is hanging on with one last, desperate attempt to remain, to be remembered.

Non-Deprivation

One of the assumptions that might be made about living in the middle of nowhere is that it's a harsh, simple life. Limited entertainment, limited options, etc. This was true when I was growing up out here. Televisual entertainment was limited to three, or sometimes four or five, channels. Where we were at in Northern Illinois we could get the three major networks out of Rockford - ABC, CBS, and NBC. Occasionally we would get a couple of additional channels - 9 out of Chicago 9 - WGN - which carried the Cubs games, I guess, but more importantly carried The Bozo Show - and channel 32, which featured Son of Svengoolie, among other televisual delights.

If this sounds like I'm trying to make something big out of something pretty limited, you're right. It was what we had.

What made access to those far away channels even worse was that they made us aware of exotic possibilities in far away lands - the Old Chicago amusement park, shopping at Insurance Liquidators, or buying carpet from Empire. There was always the promise of things I could have, if only I lived in a more urban, more cosmopolitan location.

A delightful reality of the modern age is that most of those limitations have been eliminated. Want something? Order it from Amazon - it will be here within a couple of days.

Yes - things are different now. This very evening I'm playing Call of Duty: Black Ops Zombie with LB and her cousins. They started out on the XBox One and then moved on to the iPads so that we could play a cooperative game together. Delightful.

The upshot of all this? It's no longer the major sacrifice it once was to live out in the country. It's true that our home is still well off the beaten track. Still, with the Internet in its various forms, and delivery services being what they are now, it's not a life where the trade off for peace and quiet is deprivation (we can even get a pizza delivered out here). Rather, you can access the things you want and the big city - if it really seems necessary - is an hour down the road (Rockford) or an hour and a half away (Chicago) by rail.