- You give directions like, “Turn left where the old maple tree used to be before the 2012 storm took it out.”
- You can recognize at least three people just by their truck alone.
- A traffic jam means the Mennonite horse-and-buggy parade is back in town.
- Your idea of “nightlife” is sitting on the porch listening to crickets argue.
- You measure distance not in kilometers, but in “minutes to the local watering hole.”
- You know the exact moment when tourist season starts: when the line at the LCBO triples.
- You’ve driven your lawn mower to a neighbor’s house “just to save gas.”
- The “mall” is actually the Home Hardware and whatever’s attached to it.
- You think “organic groceries” means growing it yourself or bartering for it with a dozen fresh eggs.
- The new restaurant in town has exactly ten menu items and everyone still says, “What a selection!”
- You don’t trust a bakery unless it’s in a converted garage.
- You’ve seen more “CLOSED FOR DEER SEASON” signs than “OPEN” signs in November.
- You wave at every passing car because there’s a 70% chance you’re related.
- You can identify cow breeds faster than dog breeds.
- A “business casual” meeting outfit involves jeans without rips.
- You judge a town not by its population, but by how good its ice cream shack is.
- You’ve been late to work because “a turkey ambush” on the concession road.
- You get excited when a new tree gets planted like it’s a new family member.
- You’ve spent more time dodging potholes than actual traffic.
- You know the “good fishing spots” are guarded family secrets, sworn on the honor code.
- You don’t use Yelp; you use, “So, what does Uncle Brian think of it?”
- You can’t stand “big box” stores — unless they sell chainsaws or muck boots.
- You’ve had at least one summer where the fairgrounds smelled like cow manure and cotton candy at the same time.
- Your dog has more freedom to roam than most people’s kids.
- You genuinely feel sorry for anyone who’s never seen a sunset over an open field, a foggy morning rolling over the hay bales, or the pure, unfiltered chaos of trying to move a herd of cows across a dirt road.
Closing Thought:
Big cities might have skyscrapers and endless coffee shops, but they’ll never beat the smell of woodsmoke in October, the first spring mud on your boots, or the kind of neighbor who’ll pull your truck out of a ditch just because “it’s the right thing to do.”
Born country. Stay country. And remember: trees don’t charge interest, but banks sure do.
