Opinion : I\'m from the country, and I like it!

T.W. Close, the 1st generation

Zuleda, his wife

2nd Generation Paul & Hazel

Paul and Hazel with the 3rd Generation Kathryn and Ron

Ron lived on the farm briefly after his wife died, she a city girl, while Ron...a country boy

4th Generation Dean, with the required overalls just for the picture :)

5th Generation Phillip on the tractor with great grandpa Paul

5th Generation Jonathan driving while grandpa plowed with a hand plow

So many time as I head out of the huge city of Vinton to my humble abode in the country, I ponder how privileged we are to live where we do.

I marvel at the lack of whining you hear among neighbors who live on this road.

I still think of myself as a city gal, and find I still whine.

I used to whine when the snow plow hadn't been past the house in an hour since it quit snowing, but have learned to enjoy being snowed in.

Now it's spring like and I am whining about the mud.

I recently bought a 'new' car that's "MOM'S" read, "Exclusively for mom to drive."

It's in pretty good shape, has a sun roof and of all things, heated seats to warm you up in the freezing winter temperature, which I love.

I try to spoil "my car" as much as I can, which in our house means running it through the car wash and keeping it trash free, although a few days of general family use, makes it in desperate need of a cleaning.

So today as I went into town, I splurged on a trip through the car wash.

I drove around a bit and got my shiny car all dried off, and headed home.

The roads out here are muddy since we had the little bit of snow, so I looked to see which way the wind was blowing and thinking since it was going east and west, maybe those roads would be drier. So I drove a few extra miles home to take the east and west road.

As soon as I hit the "gravel" which my kids inform me is really NOT gravel, but rock, I heard the splash of mud on my formerly clean car.

I crept down to 10 miles an hour, then after a mile of that, and slipping and sliding down the road in just as much mud as the other road would have had, I gave, up, and drove home like any respectable country girl would, and let the mud land where it will.

There are some things you realize living in the country. The first one, is that because there's so much more dirt than concrete, there's a lot more dirt, dust and mud than in town.

I remember Dean's aunt saying that her mom only dusted out here when company came to visit...I used to think that was funny until I lived out here.

I had never driven in mud until we moved out here. It's fun, scary and something I don't like my kids driving in, but part of the territory.

In summer it's the prettiest ride home, and in the fall, it's the best place to see the leaves.

It's also home to some of the most dangerous intersections out here.

We lost a grandparent a mile east of our home. Even in that situation, the aunt who grew up on the land where we now live, was understanding, stating the obvious, "Grandpa knew the roads and the risks, it's all part of living in the country."

Today I drove home and stopped at the cemetery where generations of Close's are buried and tipped my hat to them for their perseverance in living out here, when it really was tough to live out here. When they bought the land back in 1919, it was before there were the snowplows we have now to rescue us, probably before there was even a decent road to travel on.

They were all country folks, kindhearted, generous, unassuming folks.

Many times we'd drive from 20 minutes to an hour to come back to the Close Place, never dreaming we'd one day be privileged enough to live here.

Today, after sliding through the mud, getting out and sighing over my once again muddy car, I smile and appreciate the mud, and the dirt and yes, even the dust!

Thanks all former Close's for keeping the place, here's hoping many more generations of Close's will live here and enjoy the privilege!

From the 4th generation of Close's to you, here's a dusty thumbs up!