Small Town, USA.

(Warning: I love where I live, and at the end of leaf season, when I am particularly indoctrinated with the loveliness that is fall in the mountains, I tend to wax a bit poetic. Sorry in advance.)

The parking lost was mysteriously a flutter. I mean, this was Wal-Mart. On a Tuesday night. What on earth was bringing so much bustling activity to a normally subdued location? Then I saw the flashing lights of the ambulance. My heart quickened and I reminded myself that all that are dear and close to me were safe at home and I need not worry for myself, but I worried for whomever was suffering. When I reached the storefront, I joined the crowd of onlookers and asked an employee if everything was all right.

"It's fine," he said. "Someone just fell and bumped their head, and didn't think they could drive home."

We watched as the ambulance was directed to the scene of the accident. Many finally drifted into the store, but something else caught my eye, so I stood for a few more moments. Shortly after the ambulance arrived, a wave of F150's and Chevy Silverado's, all sporting a single flashing light haphazardly placed above the driver side window hurriedly pulled up to the scene. A bunch of normal looking guys, uniformed in nothing but blue jeans and assorted shades of flannel, poured out of the trucks and raced over to the scene... they directed traffic around the ambulance. They kept the curious from getting too close. They helped.

I knew immediately who they all were, because this is a small town in the south. Every single firefighter that this little county has, and nearly ever EMT is a volunteer. They drive around in their pick up trucks, working their regular jobs, eating dinner with their families, and then, when emergencies happen, they materialize at the scene, sometimes leaving wives and children waiting patiently in the car to see if their is anything they can do to help. They'll run shifts at the fire station, so that someone is always ready to respond. And they'll do it all for nothing.

It may seem like a novice system, but in a sleepy town like this one, a bumped head in the Walmart parking lot might be the most exciting call they get for weeks. I love that about my town. Here, everything just seems to move a little bit slower. It's the sort of town where all the cops have breakfast at the same diner every morning. Where locals laugh at you if you lock your doors, where people still pull over, some even getting out of their cars to show respect for a passing funeral train. It's the sort of town full of old barns and cows, where Wal-Mart, just a regular Wal-mart, not a big, fancy supercenter closes at 10 PM, and wouldn't dream of staying open all night. It's the sort of town where teachers walk your kids to your car when you pick them up, and stand at your window to talk about how the day went, how your child is doing, and what they might need to study for the upcoming test.

In many ways, a town like this is years behind other faster, busier parts of the country. There are more parts of town that don't get good cell phone coverage than there are parts that do. We have one radio station that covers the local news, high school football games, Nascar, and plays country music in between. We have one hospital, one high school, and two hundred churches. And, unless you're a transplant, most everyone can trace their genealogical heritage to four or five individuals. Its easy to know the names of these founding fathers... all the streets are named after them.

Sometimes, I mourn my lack of shopping options. I complain that to get anywhere, you have to drive far. But when it comes right down to it, I don't think I'd change anything. (I don't know. Maybe if I could have my town exactly like it is, but with a Target, I would change that.) I love the southern simplicity of small town living. And I love that everywhere I go, it's beautiful. See?

The view on the way to the elementary school:



A creek in the national forest, just a few minutes drive away:



The view on the way to Josh's office:



My favorite old barn, and of course, the cows:



The view from the top of my favorite local hike:



And finally, the highway that takes you in and out of town:



You should all come and visit. Really. You'd love it here. Just don't all come at once. And not this week, cause I'm going to go hang out with my sister so she can bring my very first niece into the world. Yay!


And now for a totally unrelated note that is too adorable not to share, Henry just came to me with a can of Yoo-hoo (not a regular purchase in this house. I mean, does anyone actually buy Yoo-hoo on a regular basis? But it was an early pregnancy craving, and there was one can left over), and said, "Mommy, I want some Waaaa-hooo!!!!" Heh. I love that boy.