Recently, my husband made a shocking confession.
No, not an affair. Or a secret love child.
At least, not so far.
Rather, he confessed his desire to sell our city home and move to a small village in the Canadian Rockies. Kind of like that old TV series GREEN ACRES. But without the farm.
Now I’m not a person who likes change. So going from one of the largest cities in Canada, to a village of about 800, has been quite an adjustment.
Take buttons, for example. Since the sewing shop in the neighboring town closed its doors, something we generally take for granted in the city—the availability of buttons—became a problem around here.
Alas! What to do with a gaping shirt? Throw it away? Pin it together?
Fortunately, the volunteers at the local thrift shop came to the rescue. They now strip the buttons from unwanted garments and make those dandy fasteners available for sale.
And that’s the main thing I’ve learned about small towns, so far. The residents are skilled at creative problem solving. They figure out how to use the resources available, and pitch in to help one another whenever needed.
I think I’m going to like it here.
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Check back with me for more adventures in village life.
