The Dreaded Desent of the Cottagers

    I have said this too many times before, but I live in a beautiful part of our country.  I am surrounded by fresh air, fertile farmland, and rivers and lakes.  We are half way between two big cities, and could travel to either within 2 hours.  I live here by choice.  I choose to live a slower lifestyle.  I choose to breath fresh air.  I choose to know my neighbours and know them by name.  I grew up here, but I left in my early twenties.  I chose to come back, not because I had to ... but because I wanted to.

    This week-end signals the cottagers descending upon my bit of paradise.  I know that the cottagers mean extra revenue for my local businesses.  I know that they come here in the summer for the same reasons that I live here all year round.  It's an amazing place to live.  I dislike the extra traffic in my small village, but I can live with it.  My problem is with the bad attitude and rude behavior that many of these cottagers bring with them.

    These strangers come here with their noses up in the air, thinking themselves to be so much superior to the poor country bumpkins.  I admit, that they are not all like that, it just feels like it.  They come here and expect that we should all admire them.  They feel like they the city dwellers are so above the lowly country folk.  They share little jokes about our community.  What they do not realize is that many of us "poor country folk", have the same levels of education that they do, if not higher.  What they do not realize is that farmer they are snickering at has more money tied up in farm equipment and livestock than their fancy houses are worth.  They do not know that many of us have lived in the big cities,  but chose instead the beauty of the country.

    O.K. I think I feel a little better for that rant.  I feel this way every year at this time.  I need to take a deep breath and feel sorry for those people, those ignorant people.  They are so blinded by their own importance that they do not realize how blessed we "poor country bumpkins" are.  They come here on week-ends to get away from the rat race, we live in this paradise all year round.  We visit the rat race to boost our excitement, but then come home to the quiet, fresh air, and feel fortune to call this home.