Farm livin’ is the life for me. Land spreadin’ out so far and wide. Keep Manhattan, just give me that countryside. – Green Acres Lyrics by Vic Mizzy, American composer (1916-2009)
Growing up I lived in a new subdivision with a cotton field just beyond the backyard. The subdivision was full of youngsters to play with, carpool when necessary or walk together to the elementary school only a block away. Having a school so nearby meant playing on the playground anytime you wanted. Years passed and soon I was in collage and looking for a big job in a big city. I found a job across from the governor’s mansion. A few years later I was living in Montreal, Canada in a high-rise on the sixth floor. It was a city of a million people bumping shoulders on the street, concrete everything, bus stops, exhaust, pigeons. It was time to come home.
I moved back to Mississippi and rented a trailer in the Sessums community. The neighbors there had a monthly potluck at the old white framed schoolhouse often used as a voting precinct. They took me in. The land was quiet and the fields green. I had an offer to rent a house in town but thought I’d stay there in the community. Across the road was a fenced-in horse. I’d take him an apple after work. One day he appeared at my front door. I gave him an apple and walked him back home. He never once bumped my shoulder. There was a man who walked his cows down the road everyday at 5 p.m. He carried a stick to guide them. The cows made me nervous. I knew little of cows and thought they might maul me. They didn’t. They did show up one night and bumped the sides of the trailer. Later building a house in Sessums I learned more about country living and loving it. Every morning, I walked my property line checking fencing. Sometimes I’d sit on a stump and think. It was akin to “forest bathing.”
Now I’m older and live in the Prairie and feel a lot more like a downhome country girl. We feed hummingbirds, though there are fewer this year. Tree frogs, the American toad I named “Tommy Toad,” and Wilhelmina the cat, are my pets along with wild blue birds, goldfinches, doves, woodpeckers, cardinals, summer tanager and seasonal visitors.
A pregnant deer feeds at our birdfeeder and that suits me just fine. I sliced some pears from the pear tree and left them nearby. She seems to like pears as do the raccoons, possums and squirrels. Momma dear missed a couple of evenings and we thought likely she birthed her fawn. Sam went to check the lake spillway and happened upon the fawn. The wild cherries are ripening. Maybe both momma and baby will visit soon.
Besides the critters, other things need care, bush-hog fields, cut grass, plant flowers and shrubs and nourishing them daily. The pleasure of country living far outweighs any chores. It’s the life we live. It’s a good life.
Shannon Bardwell is a writer living quietly in the Prairie. Email reaches her at [email protected].
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Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 34 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.
