Country Life: We Do Things Differently

We live in the country. Sure, we can see the small neighboring town from our hilltop. And we can see the town 13 miles to the east. And from the back of our tree row, we can see the town 25 miles to the north.

The horizon stretches pretty far out here in the wide open South Dakota country.

Even though we can see quite a distance, however, we don’t expect to be seen. Let me explain.

Typical Country Morning

It was early Wednesday morning. My comfy red plaid pajama pants and a red cotton t-shirt accompanied me as I rolled out of bed. I got the coffee brewing, let the dog outside to relieve herself, then tended to my morning chores.

Wearing said pajamas, I set about outside taking care of my morning outdoor chores. Watering various areas of the garden, filling the waterers of the chickens and guineas, feeding the animals, etc. You know, typical country morning stuff.

It was going to be a really hot day (over 100) so making sure everything had fresh, cool water was my priority.

The Arrival

While I was standing in the coop, I heard what sounded like an engine approaching. “Wow, FedEx is super early!” I thought. Then I heard tires on our gravel driveway.

That’s when I saw the vehicle, and it was definitely not FedEx.

An older gentleman in overalls was at the wheel.

“Oh this man is very lost. I will just stay in the coop while he turns around, and then I’ll saunter back to the house,” I thought.

Until he parked his vehicle and got out.

From my cellphone in the coop, I called Hubs and simply said, “Go to the front door now.”

I finished up my chores and stood in the coop a while longer. If there was a conversation taking place, it was happening right by the only door that was unlocked to get back inside our home, and whatever was being discussed at this ridiculously early hour in the morning could not possibly take very long…

Standing in the coop, in my pajamas, was not befitting. I wanted out of the coop, and I wanted inside my house. There was hot coffee waiting for me inside, after all.

I had to do it. It was time to make a move.

The Encounter

I locked up the coop, held my head up high, and paraded down our suddenly much-longer-than-I-remembered front walkway in my red pajamas. Passing by, I smiled at the stranger, said, “Hello”, interrupting his and Hubs’ conversation, and let myself into the house.

Country Neighbor had driven down to an adjoining property to take care of his horses and found someone else’s horses had gotten in with his. So Country Neighbor, despite the early hour of the day, drove to our door. Because in the country, things need to be taken care of when they happen – whether or not it’s convenient.

My morning pajama parade was thoroughly embarrassing. For me. I don’t think Country Neighbor thought twice about. I hope not, anyway.

A Country Lesson

This was not the first time my pajamas and I have made embarrassing appearances outside.

You might think I’d learn the lesson about walking outside in my pajamas and the probability of being seen by strangers increasing exponentially. But you’d be wrong.

Once, some gentleman came to take the tractor away to install something (I don’t even remember) and minutes after I thought they had gone, I walked out to the garage to care for the chicks.

But the men were not gone. Instead, they were pulled over alongside the driveway, trying to cinch up the straps keeping the tractor on the trailer.

And they watched me march in all my pajama glory into the garage.

Another time, I was in the coop taking care of the chickens when the UPS man came for a delivery. I hid behind the coop door and waved and smiled from its safety. He may or may not have seen my pajamas, but I know for a fact he saw my out-of-this-world bed head hair.

Country Conclusion

So I guess we do things a little differently in the country. I don’t have morning chore clothes, and I don’t fix my hair to tend to the chickens. I do my morning chores in my pajamas, with my hair doing whatever it pleases.

It would appear I also meet neighbors, delivery drivers, and repairmen, while hosting surprise pajama parades.

For the record, I would like to interject that for us living out in the country on a hilltop homestead, there are a lot of people who make their way down our driveway too early in the morning.

…and a growing list of strangers who have seen me in my pajamas.

But being out in the country, I suppose that’s yet another trait that comes with the territory. We just do things a little differently out here.

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