My neighborhood was once occupied by Shakers. Driving down the street is like driving through a Shaker museum. There are even Shaker-style outhouses, and remnants of rock structures that might have been for storage of crops or food. We see llama and sheep occasionally as their grazing pasture abuts the trail behind my house.
About 4 miles away from where I live is the rail-trail, a 12-mile flat, paved biking/walking/running trail that goes past ponds and creeks where you can see beaver and cranes. It winds through Northern Massachusetts up into New Hampshire.
People in the town are adamant about keeping growth in check (There is a minimum acreage for housing lots of about 1 or 2 acres.), so we have few commercial businesses and no gas stations or grocery stores. We have to drive to other towns for our shopping. Conservation trails are a huge portion of the land use, connected to each other, so that you can hike the entire town walking the chain of trails. We have an agreement with the local snowmobile club that they may use our trails in exchange for keeping the trails cleared. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship.
Late summer brings us the summer weekly Farmer’s Market with its aromas of fresh fruits, vegetables, fish, and meat, pastries, and candies. The roadside farm stands open up with local melt-in-your-mouth corn, apples and peaches to die for.
Community is huge in my town. I have yet to meet someone I didn’t like. A gorgeous old mansion overlooking the town pond once belonged to a wealthy man and is now the center for senior activity. There is a senior van to drive seniors to their doctor’s appointments, and volunteers make sure no one is alone or uncared for.
There is no place on earth I’d rather call home.
Do or Die
Daily Prompt: You have three hundred words to justify the existence of your favorite person, place, or thing. Failure to convince will result in it vanishing without a trace. Go!