On Sunday I visited the home of family friends in Roxbury,Connecticut. After spending four years in New Haven, I didn't think much of the state of Connecticut, and certainly never saw myself living there. But after driving through Roxbury, I easily understood why so many wealthy people were flocking to the area. It's stunningly beautiful, with its large green fields and expanses of farmland, old craggy trees with branches drooping over roads, white picket fences(in the process of receiving a fresh coat of paint from teenage boys as we drove past), rolling green hills, and charming old-fashioned houses with columns and brightly colored shutters. It was the classic New England countryside, like an idealized vision from a novel or movie.

We arrived at their utterly adorable house, overlooking a hill which converged with a large grassy meadow. There was a row of trees beyond that, and wild untamed grasslands. In the distance, there was a spectacular view of the Berkshire foothills, slightly hazy in the summer heat. Around the house was a wide variety of flowers and plants, many of them species unknown to me, meticulously cultivated by the couple. They had an area devoted to various breeds of lilac, and another area devoted to ferns. It was almost like being at the North Carolina botanical garden in Chapel Hill again. My eyes were probably bugging out of my head with astonishment...both at the loveliness of the place, and how deeply I desired someplace just like it.

In the past, I prided myself on my total lack of interest in real estate. For some reason, disregard for real estate was linked to youth and freedom in my mind. Whenever my cousin talked about cute craftsy homey Martha Stewart stuff, I mocked her for getting the urge to nest. I actually told her that once I got the urge to nest myself, I'd know that I had finally become old. So I became a bit distressed when so many friends my age recently began to talk about buying apartments or settling down and looking for a house...what? We're way too young for such crazy talk! We're supposed to travel the world, have adventures, be free to move at a moment's notice, not be tied down!

Well, now I've detected a glimmer of interest in real estate. Could the desire to pop out an infant be close behind? And then dentures? I hope not!

I want a house in the country, with meadows and trees and insects and bats and chipmunks. When I have kids, I want them to have trees to climb, flowers to smell, berries to eat, and secret places to explore and hide. I certainly do not want them to suffer from Nature Deficit Disorder. I want a garden with a huge variety of plants and flowers, and to know each of them by name. I want an open sky where I can see the shapes of clouds during the day, the streaks of color at sunset, and the constellations at night. I want to have a porch where I can sit outside, sip tea, and smell my lilacs. I want beautifully crafted wood furniture, and lots of paintings covering my walls. I want a homey, bustling kitchen with pots and pans and old-fashioned dishware. Egads.

Granted, I am in no rush to have any of these things. I still feel rootless, and will continue to be rootless for at least the next couple of years. And I definitely want to be in a big city for residency. But now I have this strong vision of how I eventually want to live. Surprisingly, it's not a cosmopolitan lifestyle in some tiny apartment in the middle of the city, with lots of interesting neighbors with stories to tell, as well as a large variety of restaurants and artistic options nearby. It's out in the country. Ugh...that sounds so dorky! So not edgy. I might as well start wearing flowered Laura Ashley dresses and putting ribbons in my hair and acquiring cats.

However, I wonder what the communities are like in these sorts of towns. Probably mostly white and wealthy. I wouldn't want to be yet another example of white flight, to escape to the idyllic, removed countryside so that I don't have to confront the poverty and ugliness which plague so many other people in this country. Part of the appeal of cities is the forced confrontation with people of so many different backgrounds--not only socioeconomic or ethnic, but also political, vocational, and so on. And if I do have kids, I'd want them to get to know kids from all sorts of backgrounds, not only the mostly white and privileged ones. I'd feel guilty about soaking up the sensory pleasures of living in the country, and easily forgetting the suffering experienced by the poor and the homeless. At what point should your own happiness supersede awareness of others' misery and injustice?