A Country Girl and An Ice Cream Cone

I ate my fill of cookies and cream ice cream today.

Kimball’s Farm is always mentioned in some “top ice cream shop” article (such as Boston Magazine) and I’m a little bit obsessed with the place.

The flavor selection is fun and variable (hello, pumpkin ice cream!) and the sizes are just ridiculous (my above waffle cone is a kiddie size…you don’t want to see the large…or maybe you do?)

I always get this old school feeling of nostalgia when I eat here.  Kind of like stepping back in time.  I feel like a little kid, happily licking my ice cream cone while watching the world go by.

I love that kind of feeling.

Sometimes I dream about living in a big city like NYC or Boston or something.

I like the idea of having my own little apartment and walking to a local cafe and taking a taxi to work with my grande starbucks latte in hand.  I like that idea because it makes me feel excited inside.  Like I’d be part of something really big and important.  I’d always be ready for some new big thing.

But then.

Deep down?

I know I’m a country girl.  I like the sound of birds singing and I like the feel of grass beneath my feet and I like that flannel and faded jeans is just everyday autumn attire.

I like wide open spaces.  I like quiet.

I have this funny feeling that someday I will move to some bigger city.  Maybe not NYC and maybe not Boston.  But some city, somewhere, someday.

And I also have this funny feeling that the country will call me back.  Home.

It always does.

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