At long last after nearly 22 years of enduring less than neighborly neighbors of all kinds (running from just not sociable, to down right peculiar, to out and out weasely ig'nert white trash with money) down here in the holler, patience has paid off.
The lil' house next to me has been sold (once again!) and the folks moved in last week.
So far we are hitting it off wonderfully.
They aren't strangers to country life, having lived in rural settings on and off for years. This recent move brought about by suburbia encroaching on their last place of residence, they sought yet another 'out in the middle of nowhere' place they could live without bothersome city folk. They came to the right place.
The couple is about my age, maybe just a wee bit younger, so we have that in common. She's ex-military, he's, well, uh, I dunno. He has had a wealth of life experiences, let's just say. Either way, he's a very likable, jovial guy-actually he reminds me of my Bill, personality-wise. It's nice. He's a biker-type. (and I mean that in a good way-if I have to explain...you'd never understand.)
Even all our dogs get along! That is important for me. Mine are only on a leash if they're going to the vet, would have hated to start doing that any time we ventured out for just a walk down the road.
They have big plans for this spot of land they have bought. (cash, no loan.)I honestly don't know where the money comes from, since all the proposed improvements are major money-lots of remodeling, landscaping, new storage/barns built, etc. Their plans sound wonderful if they can pull it off. I don't care. It's just refreshing to have people next door that I and my younguns feel instantly comfortable with!
Yesterday I spent a few hours chatting with them in the shade of the walnut tree in their yard, yeah, the store was open, but from my spot in the yard I could see whenever customers pulled in and would excuse myself and trot over to the store.
The day before they had got a delivery of a huge black piece of furniture-couldn't tell right off if it was just an impressive chest of drawers or a gun safe. Once the guys began to load it into the house I could tell. Yep, gun safe. A bigg'un, too and very nice.
So today's task for the hubby was to get all their firearms cleaned and inspected and fill the safe. The wife and I gabbed away as he broke down and meticulously cleaned a neverending array of rifles, handguns, shotguns and all manner of implements of destruction. The wife would interrupt our conversation now and then to indicate which one was hers- her gran'pa's .45, the 20 gauge she got as an anniversary present and so on with a story about each one. As soon as he finished up a few, off he go and bring out another 3 or so rifle cases and/or bags and start the process all over. It literally took most of the day! From about 10 a.m. to around 4 p.m. I didn't bother to ask exactly how many guns they actually had. I wasn't any of my business. But I was impressed.
In a delightfully weird way, I suddenly feel A LOT safer if the sh*t should ever hit the fan around here.
Yep, I think we're gonna get along just fine...