The Marlboro Man

Excerpt From Jane's World

If you move to a rural area later in life, you're always considered a newcomer. It's how it is. I've also noticed, with more interest, how my fantasies have gone from city-girl-silly to country-girl-gone-wild.

I'd barely turned the corner on forty when I came limping into rural life, driving a car with tires not meant to be driven on twisting roads without guard rails.

I remember my first morning of waking up in the country. I looked out over endless fields stretching out as far as I could see, surrounded by trees of all shapes and sizes. The cliché, “died and gone to heaven,” kept spinning through my head. I couldn't wait to get out and explore.

Knowing I could walk right out the front door in my pajamas heightened my sense of awe. Later on, thinking I could mow the lawn, riding on the John Deere without my top, put an end to some of my illusions. However, even the result of that experience hasn't put a damper on my sense of freedom.

Before I moved to rural Wisconsin, I had lived as a young adult in apartments, flats, duplexes, and condo complexes, none of which allowed for privacy. As a gal who grew up in a house, in the middle of houses, I was now in heaven! As a woman who thrived on being outside and dreamed of animals outside my door, I had found the right place to roost. As a single city gal who occasionally succumbed to UPS driver fantasies, I was in for a real treat.

Originally Published January 26th, 2017 in the Crawford County Independent & Kickapoo Scout