There are disadvantages to living in the country. When you run out of a particular cooking ingredient, you have to drive 10 miles to get it. Your dogs go for a morning romp and come back full of cockleburs and smelling like cow poop. (That was yesterday's adventure.) My city grandchild was standing on the diving board of our pool looking around and said, "Nonni, you are the only one in your cove." There is grass to cut, hay to worry about, and the frogs and crickets make a racket at night. But on mornings like this, when I look out my kitchen door and see wild turkeys leisurely strolling down the levy of our pond, all those other minor inconveniences fade away. As Eddie Albert sang in the corny 1960's TV show "Green Acres,"—
"Green acres is the place to be.
Farm livin’ is the life for me.
Land spreadin’ out so far and wide
Keep Manhattan, just give me that countryside."
Only problem is I need someone like Eb.