Has the City Mouse Trampled the Country Mouse?

Well, I hate to say it, but being in my small nesty town has made me somewhat antsy for big-city life. Can it be possible that, this girl raised beneath branches, has become entranced with skylines? Yes, at sunset, they rise above the ground so beautifully and cradle the pink of the sky with such grace that I fumble, but does this make me city-bound?

The city mouse, as the story goes, has gadgets, a car and lives at a faster pace. I wonder if indeed I have become one of these fidgety people who is always sniffing around for the next enticing activity. I have been serially-dating, going to tons of shows and events, and exploring the ambiance of various bars. Add all of these up, and you may find that the little mouse that I once was has acquired a nicer outfit. It's hard not to, though, when there is that energy pulsating down the one-way streets and the outdoor seating is so vibrant and free that you may smile at one hundred strangers before finishing your locally-brewed beer. I find it particularly fascinating that I could have dated the guys I have in Austin and really never see them again. In Chico, my beloved hometown of about 90,000, I would probably end up working with his mother, or would've befriended his younger sister when we were six and dabbling in jazz dance.

Austin. Urgh. I sort of hate you for making me miss you when I am nestled in the nook of Northern California. I am going to unfairly blame most of your charm on your unseasonable warm weather. It's like fishing with dynamite. In Chico right now, it is raining so hard that it looks like one long string falling from the sky. The only thing that gives its ferocity away is the noise, the constant pelting that rocks me to sleep. It is lovely to be rocked to sleep, usually, but not when the day is young and you feel an anxiousness to do, change, be spectacular (though I rarely accomplish any of these).

I will quickly tell about one thing that the country mouse within me smiled at, down-right beamed and gushed at, really. I was with my mother, father and my darling aunts, when we found the rain taking a breath to reload, so we packed the car and headed to Vina. Vina a lovely spot north of Chico, and when you drive there you see my most cherished orchards of walnut trees reaching towards the sky with gnarled limbs, as though stretching from ancient slumber. We picnicked on the Sacramento river, guacamole sandwiches and smiles, then landed in Vina. As you drive up, you see the most beautiful building residing beside rows of grapes and discarded tractors that could make even the most vacant person come alive. The story goes that stones were brought from a destroyed church in Spain to San Francisco. The Abbot of Vina, after twenty years, convinced the stones' owners and the city that he could do marvelous things with them and erect an exact replica of the edifice the once flourished in Spain. And so, construction began, and you can now see the Chapter House portion of the grander group of buildings to come. The Chapter House is where the monks gather to read one chapter a day from the Benedictine Bible. As we walked in this building, open and airy enough to exhale on angels, I knew that I need a juicier kind of beauty than the city to please me. I have to say that the subsequent wine tasting also reminded me that the soil, the life and space of the country, is what lines my truest of hearts and that softens the points of my soul.


But for now, being young and indulgent as I am, I think I will stay in the city. I will shelf my dreams of simple living and growing everything I eat in order to rejoice in musical triumphs, be part of a myriad of communities, and have spontaneity be served in grand proportions with my daily recommended cultural feasting.

So, has the city mouse trampled the country mouse? Perhaps not completely. But, I must say, the city mouse does have a rhythm in her that is tempting to me now, oh so tempting. I remember though, that I do have faith, a strong faith, that I will return to my walnut trees one day....one day.