![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
same_skyThere's a small bistro on Main Street that serves soup, sandwiches and salads. It's a quirky little place, and one that I haven't been to all that much. It's not for lack of trying, but I've still yet to figure out their opening hours. They're not posted on the door, and apparently lunch on Saturdays is just completely out of the question.
We sit by the large front window, and for a few happy moments, we're both quiet, content watching life waltz by. From where I'm sitting, I have a perfect view of town, and it's one of those perfect blue days of early spring. Sheer curtains frame the scene, a slight breeze making them rustle occasionally. A small amount of greenery and a tree marks the end of the parking in front of the building. A red brick crosswalk heads across the street, where a pretty white brick bank sits looking.. well, stately. Just beyond the bank is another shop, converted from a cute little house, painted white with red trim. Cars putter by slowly, no one in much of a hurry. Even though it's quite chilly outside, the occasional passerby strolls by. I see two young men walking towards me, laughing at something. There's an elderly woman, her hair covered against the wind, across the street carrying a large cardboard box. I wonder what's in it, but she disappears out of sight before I can figure it out. A misfit college student ambles past, dressed all in black, with a cowboy hat and boots killing his attempted goth look. He looks vaguely ludicrous, in a pathetic sort of way. There's tomato and basil in the air, and light jazz plays in the background. There's a light tinkle of glasses clinking and people talking, and there is no artificial light in the room at all--just sunlight streaming in through the open wooden shutters near the high ceiling. It is, quite simply, beautiful.
There has been some discussion about why we're living here in Morehead. M's family, in particular, have questioned him on this throughout our marriage. It's hard to explain the appeal to someone from a city. It's true that we sometimes wish we had more than one movie to choose from, and we get tired of the restaraunts in town and long for something a little more exotic. There are a limited number of cultural events, and not a single quiet little bar where you can go with a couple of friends and relax in peace. Shopping is pretty much limited to WalMart, and there are very few decent jobs available. But the atmosphere--you can't get that in a larger town. You can get something different, and I'm sure it's fun and happening, and probably lovely in its own way. But the slow, casual life--that's what our small town is all about.
We sit by the large front window, and for a few happy moments, we're both quiet, content watching life waltz by. From where I'm sitting, I have a perfect view of town, and it's one of those perfect blue days of early spring. Sheer curtains frame the scene, a slight breeze making them rustle occasionally. A small amount of greenery and a tree marks the end of the parking in front of the building. A red brick crosswalk heads across the street, where a pretty white brick bank sits looking.. well, stately. Just beyond the bank is another shop, converted from a cute little house, painted white with red trim. Cars putter by slowly, no one in much of a hurry. Even though it's quite chilly outside, the occasional passerby strolls by. I see two young men walking towards me, laughing at something. There's an elderly woman, her hair covered against the wind, across the street carrying a large cardboard box. I wonder what's in it, but she disappears out of sight before I can figure it out. A misfit college student ambles past, dressed all in black, with a cowboy hat and boots killing his attempted goth look. He looks vaguely ludicrous, in a pathetic sort of way. There's tomato and basil in the air, and light jazz plays in the background. There's a light tinkle of glasses clinking and people talking, and there is no artificial light in the room at all--just sunlight streaming in through the open wooden shutters near the high ceiling. It is, quite simply, beautiful.
There has been some discussion about why we're living here in Morehead. M's family, in particular, have questioned him on this throughout our marriage. It's hard to explain the appeal to someone from a city. It's true that we sometimes wish we had more than one movie to choose from, and we get tired of the restaraunts in town and long for something a little more exotic. There are a limited number of cultural events, and not a single quiet little bar where you can go with a couple of friends and relax in peace. Shopping is pretty much limited to WalMart, and there are very few decent jobs available. But the atmosphere--you can't get that in a larger town. You can get something different, and I'm sure it's fun and happening, and probably lovely in its own way. But the slow, casual life--that's what our small town is all about.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-03-17 09:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-18 06:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-17 10:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-18 06:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-18 10:46 am (UTC)I never could figure out their hours - I honestly don't know how they stay in business...
no subject
Date: 2004-03-18 06:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-18 02:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-18 06:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-03-18 07:46 pm (UTC)That always happens when I'm considering leaving a place - near-absence makes the heart grow fonder and all of that. I'll visit one day regardless...