Читать книгу Hungry for Harbor Country - Lindsay Navama - Страница 10

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Introduction

I

I couldn’t wait to escape rural life and move to the big city. For me, that city was L.A., then

Chicago when my husband, David, and I moved there for work.

   Tahoe City, a tiny lake town with one stoplight. Like so many small-town kids,

On one morning in Chicago, my husband woke up and he was hungry. But he wasn’t craving his usual weekend breakfast request of gluten-free, dairy-free blueberry chocolate chip pan-cakes. He was hungry for an adventure away from the crowds and concrete of the city. Within hours we were in a Zipcar, speeding away from Chicago toward Harbor Country, Michigan, which according to friends, promised rural towns, country roads, u-pick farms, and a generous slice of quiet.

That first day trip took us around the southern curve of Lake Michigan, through many beachside hamlets, to the artsy town of Saugatuck. Two hundred eighty miles and numerous delicious local treats later, we arrived back in Chicago. Our simple Saturday morning hunger for a rural escape had grown into a ravenous appetite to create a space where we could stress a bit less and live a lot more.

We continued to make visits to Harbor Country, and on one of our many trips, we drove by a sign reading “Harbor Country: A Place to Be Yourself.” The words on that billboard remained at the top of my mind as we began a house hunt in the area, with the goal of finding more per-manent peace.

At that time I had very much lost myself. David and I had spent the past three years in Chi-cago trying to make the Midwest city feel like home after being bound to the West Coast since birth. And to ice that cake, I was also searching for my next career.