Country neighbors are a special kind of neighbor. Here in Maine it is considered quite odd to close your curtains or shades--ever. In fact, in some places I've lived in, there were many rooms that didn't even have curtains, just a valance up top. Closing your house off is considered suspicious (what have you got to hide?), and it marks you as being "from away." That's the worse insult you could ever get here: "He's from away." That's always responded to with a narrowing of the eyes, a slow nod of the head, and an "Oh, I see."
As if the person didn't already know that he was from away. Country people know everything about one another, usually because people don't have curtains around here. Odd custom, that. Not that anyone would stare into anyone else's windows. Well, not too much anyways. And certainly never in a conspicuous way. Of course, the farther out you live, the further the houses are from each other and your news won't be broadcast quite as easily. In that case, it takes a little creative initiative, but rest assured that your neighbors will still know everything about you.
Take Lilyette, for example. She lives about half a mile up the road. There's no such thing as a short visit when Lilyette comes around. It doesn't matter if you tell her you have somewhere to go. She'll stay as long as she intended. Of course, she didn't intend anything as she was "just out for a walk." You can keep on working when she comes by, though. She sure does like to talk, and being as isolated as we are around here, I never mind listening. She'll talk about her whole family, including fifth cousins four times removed, by first name only as if I know them. But no matter. Eventually she'll get around to asking me what I'm doing and what it's for, etc. Very often, she knows a lot about it already anyhow. I posted an article a couple of weeks ago here about a fisher that had commandeered my hoop house. Damned if Lilyette didn't know about it not even half an hour after it happened. Seems in her travels she'd run into someone on the road who told her, who had heard it from someone else. So when I went to tell her, she already knew and asked me if I had a name for the fisher.
But she's really nice, Lilyette is, and she's just a treasure trove of knowledge about local people, customs, and areas. You can learn a lot from someone like her. I genuinely like her, and I think she likes me too. Which is a good thing, because Lilyette never has a problem speaking her mind to anyone (about anyone). So she talks and I talk and by the time we finish, I know how much the local landfill charged her for some garbage metal she had lying around and how mad her husband was about that, I know who's planting what and where and who would have liked that (even though they're now dead), and I know who's fallen out of favor. It's always a good visit when Lilyette comes by.
Old Howard stopped by a few days ago. He always stacks his wood better than mine and noticed that these two-year-old cords of wood were well seasoned and should be used this year. I had every intention of doing so but I didn't say as much. Even if I had, he wouldn't have heard it because Old Howard is going deaf and you have to yell everything at him. But this visit wasn't really about the wood. It was about the carrots. He wanted to know if I had any left in my garden that he could "borrow." I told him I didn't have any left because I'd pulled up all the beds and got them ready for the winter. He figured he'd go check anyway just to make sure, though, and sure enough he found out that I'd pulled up all the beds. That's how he noticed the wood, which was a considerable distance from the garden. "Oh, so you've pulled up all the beds then, have you?" The thing about Old Howard is, he'd give you the shirt off his back if you asked for it. Literally. He would do that. If he heard you asking, that is. Old Howard's a good guy.
Of course, there's some strange ones too. Take old neighbor Bob, for example. Bob's just plain off his nut. He lost his mind a long time ago, if he ever had it. He's quite the recluse, but when he does come out, he usually kindly offers to kill someone's pet. He's just trying to help and be neighborly, I guess, but none of us really need our pets killed so his talents appear to be wasted. He does have another talent, and that's carpentry, at which he's quite good. I wonder if he'll build a guillotine. I wouldn't be surprised.
And there are others. There's Greg who loves to play with his tractor. Man, he'll dig anything up and bury it again in no time flat. Jules builds wonderful things but has a dog who will tear your head off. Tim and Jay have nose rings, which isn't that unusual, but they're in their 60s. Jackie does a fine hokey pokey, and she is very fond of my orange marmalade. And so on.
Last but not least, there's me. The height of normalcy. My neighbors sure are lucky to have me. :)
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