from a little house on the prairie to a house by a silver lake

From Our Small Town in southeast Kansas,


My Darling Husband and I have moved


to the metropolitan Ann Arbor/Ypsilanti/Detroit, Michigan area.


There are lots of lakes up here. Some of the lakes are actually dammed rivers, one of which we live next to. Our location is a quiet area. I’m thankful to live outside the city. After living within city limits most of my life, I came to appreciate the low volume of a small town (although Our Small Town in Kansas was becoming louder, with crime increasing, thanks in part to a certain demographic moving into that area).
I’m still flabbergasted every time the thought of having moved half-way across the country crosses my mind. Except for six months residing on the Missouri side of Kansas City (which doesn’t really count because it’s almost like living on the Kansas side), I lived in Kansas from birth until now, a few decades later. I’m a third-generation Kansan, through and through. This will take some getting used to!
p.s. — The title of this post is a reference to Laura Ingalls Wilder and her writings.

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