So now we've made one giant leap - from the city to the mountains. It's a whole new world, really, five miles from any town, so there's no walking to Starbucks for coffee.
Our home is carved into the side of a mountain, wedged between a steep wall and Squilchuck Creek, which runs down from the top of the mountain (Mission Ridge) and into the Columbia River. The hills have sharp rocky ledges (I'm sure there's a geological term for them) which poke out from the earth in random ways. There's a smattering of Evergreen trees, (probably a good thing because fewer trees means a lower risk of wild fire). The hills are mostly covered in sage brush and wild grasses. Near the house, there are deciduous trees mixed in with Evergreen trees all around the house and driveway, making the setting private.
And we have our own bridge. Actually, we have two bridges, a foot bridge and a steel reinforced bridge that easily accomodated our two ton Army truck. There is a large flock of quail on the property, which meanders from the garden area, out past the creek, where they quickly disappear into the shrubs at the first sign of danger. We've already spotted deer high up on the hill behind our house and seen droppings of what is most likely an Elk near our garden, which, fortunately is protected by a high fence.
We now have seventeen fruit trees and seventeen rose bushes to care for, along with the garden and property. There's a chicken coop/barn with it's own fenced in area. And there are lots of new things to contend with, spiders, rattle snakes, deer, elk and people who drive old Ford Bronco's with loud mufflers. You couldn't move to the country and expect not to find a person driving one of those, could you?