Sunday, March 15, 2009

Barb of Green Gables

I shoveled my driveway this morning... again. It seems March is in cahoots with Mother Nature and they are doing their level best to keep me on my mountain. As if the issue needs to be forced! I don't mind. The snow just adds to the scenery... although at this rate, I won't be planting my herb garden until August.

I wanted to test the road, so Nino and I took a short trip to the little store 1 ¼ miles from my house. We often walk there - it's lovely traipsing down the road through the forest. Going to
Green Gables General Store always feels like taking a trip back in time. The structure itself has been there for over 70 years and still has wooden floors and a fire place, complete with a sitting area and checker board, and a front porch with wooden chairs next to the ice machine. It's the kind of place where you find locals to Robe Valley sitting, sipping coffee, and shooting the breeze at any given time. When you walk in the door, whichever worker is on duty will greet you (by name if you've ever bothered to introduce yourself), will comment on the weather, and will ask how you are. It's a place where you can go to find conversation if the quiet of the woods is too much. Just a small place, the store sells camping essentials, some basic food, beer, cigarettes, fishing tackle, and... it's the last chance for espresso before you disappear into the wilderness. It's the kind of place where, when you hand them cash they don't look perplexed and credit cards are still a hassle to run. I love it there. I find any excuse to stop by, even if just to buy a pack of gum.

Whenever Nino and I walk there, he just hangs around outside without being tethered, often plying locals with his charm, or sniffing for other animals and marking his territory, or just sitting and pondering the big green trash bin with obvious greed. If I take too long yakking, he will come to the door and paw at it, much to the amusement of others. They'd let me bring him inside, but then I'd never get him back out again. As it is, my pup is all too aware that one can purchase individual doggie treats for good boys. This is a savvy dog - he knows that good behavior will end with him getting to figure out which pocket of mine his treat is hidden in.

Life in the woods... the rustic charm of it all... I've always felt like I was born 150 years too late. Now I know I was born right on time, I just had to find the right place. I'm home.

1 comment:

  1. Nice post. I like the way you write. & I envy your simple life there on your mountain!


Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.