Living My Country Life
I could not imagine growing up in a different neighborhood. My neighborhood was an amusement park full of fun and games. Every day in our neighborhood was an adventure in itself. Our home was a wooden, traditional one-story home with a built on porch. The aged wood made our home look like one of those haunted houses shown on television around Halloween. The porch was lined with horizontal, parallel beams that my grandfather referred to as a “banister.” On rainy days, with a little bit of soap, we would slide down the porch on our scooters. We had two long gravel driveways, one leading to the house and another leading to the shop, where we spent most of our time. We had everything from tractors to dirt bikes to racing lawnmowers in our shop. There was never a dull moment, and “I’m bored” was something that never came out of our mouth. My neighborhood has not only childhood memories but adult memories as well. An adventure to us was taking the four-wheeler through the woods, playing in the ditches, fishing, hunting, or simply exploring the good old outdoors. We lived out of the city limits in a country setting with steep ditches, a lot of water, and a lot of land. The front yard was filled with big oak trees and pine trees. The backyard was nothing but woods with overgrown weeds, big trees, and animals everywhere. We were only two miles from the river. We lived on a dead end road with two houses that were vacant. They were nice homes but had been abandoned after our neighbors passed on. We pretty much had the neighborhood to ourselves. Our neighborhood was a very serene place. It was so quiet you could hear the birds chirping, the frog’s rib biting in the ditch, and the coyotes howling. It was not uncommon to see a deer searching for food in our front yard or drinking from the bird bath. The big oak trees swayed from side to side and the leaves would blow on the ground, always ending up in the ditches. On the...
Please join StudyMode to read the full document