Warm Days and Woodchucks

I hate moving. I used to think I was good at goodbyes, but you want to know the truth? I
suck at it. It doesn't matter whether there's a really good reason for riding into the sunset, I still find reasons for wanting to stick around long past closing time. Days I couldn't wait to resign my job in Colorado turned into days I loved it, even though I was leaving for medical school at last.

It's the same way now, even though I'm leaving to begin residency, also at long last. Only this time, I don't have to look for reasons, they're all around me. For instance, about ten minutes ago, the dogs and I were making our afternoon rounds along the edge of the hayfield when my big dog pulled up suddenly. I looked down and he was nose to nose with either a big woodchuck or an equally large beaver. They resemble one another and despite my friendly greeting, he didn't seem inclined to introduce himself, so we hurried on.

But things like that make it hard to move.  Cool, quiet, starlit nights, immune to the sounds of the city. and breezes off the freshly mowed hay, later in June, are things I'll miss. Yes, I'll get to see the Detroit Zoo and perhaps hear the Detroit Symphony, but my roots are in the country and I'd gladly trade the zoo for the porcupine that lives under the barn or the woodchuck in the hayfield.

I know this is my "big chance," as they say in show business, and I'll be glad to settle in and get to work. Time passes quickly, I learned in medical school. Residency will, too, and sooner than I imagine, I'll be packing again, to come home. In the meantime, though, warm days and woodchucks make me appreciate the life I've had, here on the farm, that much more.  

(Photo copyright 2014 by the author)