We Bought A Farm: Meeting our first Neighbor

We met our first neighbor a few hours before we closed on the farm.

He drove up in his pick-up truck. He runs about fifteen head of cattle on our farm. Or did. He was trying to get them off the land to come home. "But about five of those them there girls just didn't want to come in today," he said, as he put out his hand to introduce himself to first JB and then me. 

His name was John. His wife's name is Dolores. Those are the names of my own grandparents so I don't think I'll ever forget what to call him. And he was about the age of my grandparents too. He wore blue jeans, work boots, and a ball cap. 

He called my mother-in-law "Sis" and it was quickly evident that he calls all women by this endearing term. 

"I just live down the road about two miles," he said in an easy country drawl. "And I want to invite you to my church too. Guthrie's Gap. We got some children at that church so you'll feel right at home."

I promised him we would definitely come for a visit. 

He pet the big red dog by his leg and gave a chuckle. "I also been told that this here Red is going to stay with you at the farm. I'm glad to hear it."

I could have talked to him for hours.

He's lived here his whole life. And I loved the way that he was in no hurry to leave. He wanted to meet his neighbors. He came to do just that. JB assured him that he could take as long as he needed to get the remaining cows off the land. 

No hurry at all.

I'm geting the idea that that will be a theme of our life.