The one where the wild calls

The differences between Atlanta and the back woods of Michigan are rather stark.  It's cooler here, though the Michiganians think it's sweltering for some reason.  There are a lot fewer people in Michigan.  And there is no internet connection out "on the farm".  It isn't really a farm, but that's what I call it.  25 acres in the country is a farm to me, I don't care what crops they don't grow.

I enjoy my visits, however.  It's so different from what customs I've cultivated in Korea.  Without internet, I can't watch videos, check my mail, read a blog, or any of several other activities that have become so commonplace to me over the last 13 years.  Meals are on a schedule and consist of plain country fare with fruits and vegetables harvested and canned the previous year, unadorned meats, rough

hewn bread and a tall glass of water drawn straight from the tap but tasting like a mountain spring.

After a homemade dessert of pie or cake or even sometimes ice cream, we gather in front of the television to watch the evening news followed by either an Agatha Christie story or Red Green.  We banter lively and test our theories about who Hercule Poirot will finger, or we laugh heartily at the antics of the Possum Lodge!

Bedtime comes early, about 10:30, maybe 11 if there's something especially interesting on the TV.  Dawn breaks as we awake the next morning.  The window is open, and the sounds of the breeze in the poplars, the birds collecting their breakfast, and Jack sipping his coffee on the back deck drift into my little bedroom off the garage.

I'm jealous of them, the people who live this life every day of every year.  I doubt I could be totally happy living this way all the time, but for this summer, it is the most wonderful place on earth.

Next week I return home, and though it's a world away, I hope that a little bit of my stay in the Michigan countryside will follow me down the road to Korea.