Sometimes I think it’s funny how I ended up in another country, in such a rural environment. I always thought if we moved abroad, we’d be living in a big, urban city. I mean, technically Aberdeen is much more populated than the town I grew up in…but it’s this little city (area) that is surrounded by total absolute countryside- like 5 miles from any spot in the city is absolute countryside.
I grew up in Indiana, about an hour outside Chicago. There’s all these online quizzes and surveys about “You know you’re from Indiana when…” But truth be told, my high school didn’t have a ride your tractor to work day. I actually didn’t know anyone that had a tractor in high school. Sure I passed a cornfield or two in the immediate area…but I never picked corn from a stalk. I never went cow tipping…that’s for sure. I think I milked a goat once on a field trip maybe? The first person to own a pick-up truck in my family was my brother when he was at Notre Dame (not knocking pick-ups, they are my vehicle of choice…just saying…). Sure we wore overalls, but who didn’t…overalls are the best invention ever! No one wore cowboys boots though, and the camo to street clothing ratio was extremely low.
So here I am in living out my life abroad dreams and I am constantly held up in traffic by a tractor going down the road. I mean, that happens at least once a week. But it doesn’t stop there. For the first time, I know where to go and to pick out my turkey for thanksgiving- no frozen store-bought Butterball here . I go to cafes that have bins of local farm eggs for sale. I regularly drive down one lane roads. I’ve had to proceed with caution passing pastures where a sheep has either gotten free or a coo is leaning out too far to get a some prime grass. I’ve watched men compete at throwing heavy objects. And even the men wear wellies!
So, I’ve been thinking, what will the next level of country-ness be? Well, I found it on my run Wednesday. Here I was trotting along when all of a sudden I realize there’s something laying across the sidewalk directly in front of me and I must hurdle it or it’s gonna get messy. My brief attempts at being a hurdler in middle school paid off and my shoes were kept clean. But then I was able to comprehend what I just jumped. A very dead and decaying baby deer (I think?!) Like the entire corpse of it…not just like a part of it. What the hell?!?!
I guess it’s not that far fetched since I was at the beach last week and was able to add this to the list of dead things I’ve seen washed up on the beach:
My childhood self would be dragging all these dead creatures home to cut up with my parent’s streak knifes and hide in the garage.
Ah country living in Scotland…I like to think it’s just getting me ready for my own ranch in Montana. As if on cue…this Aberdeen headline just popped up on my feed: