Small Towns and Simple Desires

“Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.”

The poet Wallace Stevens wrote that verse in his great work Notes Toward a Supreme Fiction. The vivid descriptions of nature contained within the poem are striking, sensual, profoundly earthy in their imagery. The man himself was apparently famous for composing his poems while walking to work: he was never taught nor bothered to learn how to drive. And so he walked, and thought large thoughts in his solitude, and wrote those same thoughts down for us to ponder later.

I mention Mr. Stevens and his walk to work because of the two glorious things contained in that idea: the nature that surrounded the man, and the fact that the man lived close enough to work to walk there every day. He trod the same path every single work day, no car needed, with time for his thoughts and his poetic imagination to take flight while he did so. No hour-long commute into a sprawling metropolis, no sitting in traffic for an eternity burning precious fuel. A simple walk, and a simple walk back.

I live within a 9-minute drive of where I work. It’s the closest I’ve ever lived to my place of employment, and the proximity is glorious. I used to drive forty minutes to work one way. No longer. I can return home for lunch, swing by on a break, all while free of the tension and the crush of a Long Commute into a gridlocked city. I grew up in the suburbs and moved to the rural country, and I’m never looking back.

There is no lake nearby where my family and I live, but there is a river. This river has provided countless hours of amusement and relaxation for us. One can wade and throw rocks, or brave the rapids and try to stand up as bubbling water courses over you trying to knock you down. Both are wonderful.

And then there is the small town we live near. When I say small, I mean like two miles long and half as wide. It isn’t fancy, but it is cozy. And safe. There is a library that caters to the children and their need for small but interesting things like weaving and puppet shows and rock painting.

There is a place for a Better Homes & Gardens publication, but that’s not who we are. We are not wealthy Southerners with disposable income to lavish on kitchen redecoration or the perfect sunroom. We are the parents of many children, and our gift to them is the gift of freedom. Freedom to run on our acre of land, freedom from many of the dangers inherent to city living, freedom to breathe in the scent of fresh cut grass, freedom to actually see their parents once in a while. Our little website here is dedicated to the idea that the lower classes need not drool over the mansions of the rich to be happy. They can feast their eyes on pictures of our pickles, or find ideas for their next low-budget restaurant excursion in our reviews. They can glean ideas from the goofy little things we do.

Or they can simply be entertained! And maybe, just maybe, we will inspire some of you to take a “walk around the lake.” Because you never know what idea may come to you if you do.