I’m thinking this whole country living thing might be fun after all.

I actually made a good bit of headway on the boxes today when my daughter and her boyfriend moved all her boxes up to her room, leaving a huge open space in the sunroom. Then after a trip to “town” (where she and the boyfriend found jobs for the summer) we met the neighbor boys when they decided to investigate our giant dog.

Indiana Jones gradually made friends with the boys, and not long after, the boys (ages 16, 13 and 12) divulged some stories about our spooky old farmhouse.

Apparently, not so long ago, the basement wasn’t the only scary place inside. After having been abandoned for the past twenty years, the boys and their friends used to dare each other to spend time in the old haunted farmhouse. They knew more about my house than I did, and had even explored the inside, from top to bottom, before any of the renovations had taken place.

“Hey, did you get them windows fixed down in the basement?” the youngest of them asked me. They had apparently broken several windows with rocks while the place was still vacant.

“Yes,” I assured him, then quickly added with a grin. “But don’t break anymore.”

He promised he wouldn’t, then ran home to get the riding lawn mower to mow my back yard…if I’d let him pop wheelies (which I did, because who can pass up free yard work?)

Then the boys offered to kill any stray raccoons or groundhogs we might have on the property (which I politely declined.)

I made the mistake (or calculated decision…it’s too early to tell just yet) to mention we were planning a bonfire, and the boys jumped at the chance to set things on fire on purpose (they’ve apparently set several things on fire by accident).

That’s how I ended up with three neighbor boys in my backyard burning our entire brush pile (supervised of course). Alexa, her boyfriend Dillon, Mike, me, and the three boys, who remind me of characters from the movie The Goonies, are sitting around a raging fire that often times reaches so far into the sky I worry it may singe the clouds.

The youngest of the boys reminds me so much of Chunk (from the movie) that I fear I might accidentally call him that. He was the one popping wheelies on a riding lawn mower (something my husband initially thought impossible, then decided was probably dangerous) although not as dangerous as riding his bike down the long narrow stairs that lead to the exterior entrance to our basement (which we refused to allow him to do, no matter how many times he’s already done it) and he was also the first one into the brush pile with an axe, ready to chop the logs into bite sized pieces, perfect for a hungry fire.

The boys were really very nice…and polite…and amazingly helpful too. A few more nights like tonight and we won’t have a single brush pile on the entire property. And probably no raccoons or groundhogs either (not because I condone such things, but boys will be boys!)

The Goonies will be back tomorrow to finish mowing the lawn. Although, I suspect they might want to visit the dogs and the baby chicks too. And that’s ok.

I have to admit, I had fun tonight. There’s something about living here that makes it feel like I’m on a permanent vacation. Even if I do have to unpack a little every day. I’m sure I’ll eventually feel moved in.

Until the next time…I’ll be standing outside with a hose until the flames die down a little.