I grew up in rural northwest Connecticut, and left in 1964 to find hippy happenings in the cities like Cambridge, Massachusetts, New York City, and Berkeley, California. I love those cities, but I came back to my small town of in Connecticut when I was 50.

It had become a summer haven for New Yorkers, and expensive, so now I live just 10 miles east in an even quieter town. I am surrounded by farms and solitude, wild animals, birds, and miles of green views in all directions.

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My pets can go out when they want but I have to watch for eagles and coyotes and bears.

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I have my dad's 80-year-old .22 rifle in case I have to shoot or fire a warning. Shop? I go online. Restaurants? We have plenty of New York chefs who escaped here, and the food is just as good as anywhere. If I want to go to New York City, it's two hours away, and Boston is three.

And now that I'm officially old, I bought a '57 Chevy, seafoam green, and I think I'm the only old broad around who takes an old car out in the winter time. I won't if they salt the roads. That's my life in my dear new town. When I walked into the town hall, half the employees were classmates or at least schoolmates.

So ... no traffic, no smog, green and quiet, animals and birds--what more can anyone want?

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Hey! That view looks just like mine. Thanks Wondergirl.

Ah, the joy (joypulv?) of Googling...