Small town Texas.  I said goodbye to a big city of 491,000 for a smaller one of 100,000.   Every time my cousins complain about the 10-minute  drive downtown to the farmer’s market or 5 minutes to the grocery store I get a chuckle.  Less traffic and short travel times were such a relief.  Then I moved to a town with less than 4000 people. I’m starting to recognize people at the one  grocery store in town every time I go in. My neighbor has three cows in his backyard and we slow down to watch his rooster and chickens cross the road. Small towns are middle schoolers riding in the street  on four-wheelers or tractors.  A small town is going to the tire shop and one of the guys has a baby wild hog on a leash. The local homeless guy lives in a shanty in a junk yard, rides around town in an old golf cart with two old dogs in tow. The Mexican restaurant is filled up at lunch time with local ranchers. Four or five trailers with their horses lined up parked out in front. The community page has a regular entry posts ‘whose dog is this?’ You can buy farm fresh eggs from your neighbor. I can walk four blocks to work. Things are simpler here. And this summer we actually got to eat five blackberries off bushes we planted last season. There’s more to come.