There’s something special about a simple, country life.

I’ve lived within the same 5-mile stretch for all 64 years of my life. Nearly 30 of those years have been spent in the same house, built on memories and steady routines. I’ve worked for the same employer for 35 years, driven the same car for 12, and found comfort in the kind of consistency some folks might not understand—but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

I’m simple. I’m country.

As a child, I walked to school—no buses, just the same roads and familiar faces each day. It was a small school where two grades shared the same room and the same teacher. Years later, my dad bought that very school and turned it into an apartment building. Just another way life here comes full circle.

To me, country living is having a yard where the dogs can run free, and looking out to see cows, horses, and even a few goats grazing nearby. And even Spring smells different (if you know what I mean.) 🤣🐓 It’s where everyone knows everyone—and chances are, you’re related to half of them. Within just a mile, we’ve got three small churches, each one filled with familiar faces and shared history. It’s also where I hear a cuckoo clock on the hour, that brings back childhood memories of our old living room with the plaid furniture, a console TV that was as big as a couch, shag carpet and brick fireplace that kept us warm in the winter and even those avocado appliances.

My granddaughter raises Highland cows, and she’s been known to give the neighbors a ride on her 4H market cow—because around here, that’s just the kind of thing that makes people smile.

I love the smell of freshly mowed grass drifting through the air on a warm day. I like things organized, steady, and just so. I believe in supporting local people—the ones you know by name, the ones who know you back.

Every now and then, I enjoy riding through the ‘old down town area’ aka main street of our neighboring town, checking out some of the older shops…those that have been here since I was a little girl. We mostly shopped during the Christmas holidays when Christmas carols were playing and the bells were ringing and we had just enough money to buy a few presents for those we loved. No matter the season, nothing feels rushed and everything feels familiar. Truth is, the town I live in is so small we don’t even have a post office—but we’ve got heart, and that’s more than enough.

This life may not be flashy, but it’s full. And to me, that’s what matters most. So what will you find when you visit “A Small Town Soul”?

A life lived simply.
Supporting local.
Taking time to breathe fresh air.
And appreciating the kind of life that doesn’t need much to feel like everything.

I hope this fills your heart with the feeling of slowness, presence and love.