A few times in my life, like after a heartbreaking divorce or recuperating after a deadly stroke, for example, I’ve gone to hide in the secluded sticks for a few months, with family and friends deep in the Oklahoma country.
Even though I grew up on a farm in a small Texas town, it seems that fifteen or twenty years of unadulterated city living has made me forget what that life was all about, so to be thrown back in it is usually a cattle-prod shock for the first few days. That, usually, is followed by an excitable new lease on country living that, after a few months, somehow turns to boredom, piquing that unshakable city-bred feeling that you are always missing out on whatever is going on.