Well, Friday I made a run out to the new place with a car load of stuff. The seller / new landlord was there, shoveling the last bit of the driveway with a scoop shovel.
I stopped to introduce myself and shake his hand – he seemed like a very kind fellow. He had cleared about an acre of our driveway and yard, as a turnabout for the U Haul, which he thought we were bringing on Friday afternoon. Which we weren’t. And the poor guy had done all that work with a snowblower and a scoop shovel. I felt terrible. He said he needed the exercise anyhow.
While I was speaking with the seller, a big ole Saskatchewan beater truck roared up, and another fellow got out – another neighbour from down the road, wanting to check out the new family, since he’d seen my car go by, and knew that we were coming soon. Seemed like an outgoing guy, with a booming voice and a friendly manner. I had forgotten about the rural grapevine, though, and was a little taken aback that everyone seemed to know who I was, where I came from, and where I work, and here I did not even know their names or where they lived. They tried to point out individual homes, but we’re talking 1-2 miles away, so it was questionable whether or not I really was looking at the right clump of pine trees…
As I was getting back into my car to pull up the drive and start unpacking, the seller handed me a slip of paper with his phone number, and said:
“Well, you will have to call to let us know when to clear your driveway for the truck, and, of course, my Dad and I will be over to help you unload the furniture…”
The City Girl in me wanted to say ‘No, No, we’re fine, we hardly have anything heavy’
The Wanna-Be Country Girl actually said: ‘Hey, that would be fantastic! What’s your favorite flavor of jam? I do a lot of canning…’
Sure hope we’ll fit in okay…