Mail even gets here.

A few years ago we had to move these mailboxes into the yard here because they were near the road and had been emptied a few times. The economy was turning poorly and the police arrested somebody who was trying to cash a neighbors Cheque.

So now when I’m at my desk in the mornings at 10:30 each morning, I hear the mail delivery person pull up and she drops off our mail. She’s a real keeper because she will bring packages from town with her for us. Normally we have to drive to town to get them.

It’s quite a process here for the mail to get to us. Our mailing address is our name followed by R. R. 2 or rural route two. And the nearest city.

There are a few hundred of us on this rural route so each piece of mail finds us because of our name. If the name isn’t on the package, we don’t get it.

It’s pretty old fashioned but it’s worked for many years.

People in the larger cities can’t believe it and Amazon has conniptions when I try to explain the address and how it works. So we have them deliver to a friends place in town.

It’s one of the ways out here that isn’t broken, for the most part, so it just continues on the way it has for over a hundred years.

Probably one of the more quaint things about living in a field.