It’s not quite 5 a.m., and I should be sound asleep, but the wild and crazy neighbor has been sounding off at the top of his lungs for the past half-hour. I’ve pleaded with him nicely to stop. I’ve yelled back at him more than once. I’ve even considered throwing something at him, but it’s pointless. “Whippoorwill,” he cheekily sasses back, sometimes drawing out that last “willllll” in what I can only assume is bird for “not a chance in hell.”

I also think the other ladies on the cul-de-sac have a little bit of a “mean girls” thing going on. The other morning, as I blearily headed to the car, already late for work, they made a point of parading slowly in front of me, and then proceeded to stand in a huddle and stare me down as I made my way out of the driveway. I don’t speak deer very well, but there was no mistaking the tail flicks, ear twitches, and little huffing sounds coming from their snooty little noses. That’s one clique I’m not breaking into any time soon.

There is one bunch of neighbors that’s only too happy to welcome me with open arms. The insect kingdom, in all its glory, never fails to show up when I least expect it. The other night, E came flying out of the bathroom, leaving a trail of puddles down the hallway. “MOM!!!!! There is the biggest bug I have ever seen flying around in here!”

I couldn’t tell if she was terrified or thrilled. Since bugs really aren’t my thing, I threw a towel at her and called one of the boys to deal with the menace. “Yep, that’s about a good three inches,” I heard A say, after the “thwack.” As he carried out the carcass, I thought he was being a little stingy with that measurement.

While I have always considered myself a country girl at heart, I have to accept that living in town for the better part of 15 years has dulled my sensitivities a little bit and getting back to nature is bringing on a little culture shock.

We had been making real progress on teaching the kids that light switches also work in the opposite direction, OFF, and that the natural state of a door is in the closed position. Then, we started living at the farm after dark. The other night, 13 lights in five different rooms blazed brightly. “’We’re not landing airplanes here,” I shouted, calling an impromptu family meeting. “New house, old rules!” I exclaimed as I demonstrated that the “new” light switches operated in just the same manner as the old ones.

“But mom, it’s DARK here,” shot back the 11- and 13-year old, who haven’t had an issue with dark for years. I had to stop and think for a minute and I realized that they were right. In town, there is always a soft glow from the streetlights. At the farm, when the lights are off, it is almost pitch black. While this has led to many enjoyable evenings on the patio, watching the moon rise, and seeing the Milky Way, and learning their constellations; combined with a brand-new environment, it’s made them a little edgy. Even after fifteen years away, old habits die hard, and I can still find my way around in the dark with no problem at all. I advised the kids that eventually, they’d pick that skill up, and that they just needed to practice it more. So, lights out!

The other night, the Wonderful Husband and G were a little late getting back from a fishing trip. E seized the opportunity to have a sleepover with her bestie. As we settled in, E whispered to me, “it’s really loud in here.” I had actually just been thinking how nice and peaceful the spring evening was, with no motorcycles tearing up the street, no sirens wailing, and no intoxicated people stumbling home at 2 a.m. “Loud?” I asked. “Yeah, that buzzing noise never stops.” I stopped and listened. All I heard were the crickets and katydids, the lullaby that I fell asleep to ever single summer night of most of my life. I chuckled a little and I told her she would eventually get used to it. “It just never stops. Don’t these bugs get tired after a while?”

A few minutes later, she jumped a little as the furnace kicked on. Even though things seemed noisy, it was quiet enough that the man-made noise really stood out. I did laugh at her a little, but I also appreciated how the new rhythms and noises of the house and the outdoors are going to take some getting used to for my town kids.

It’s taking some getting reacclimated to, but the return to nature has been a good one. I find myself drifting off to sleep listening to the bird and bug evening chorus, instead of something on the TV. Even though I was late for work, taking a few minutes to watch the deer posse watch me got the day off to a good start. I still haven’t found anything positive about the bug problem, but I have a feeling that the two-dozen guinea hen keets that will be arriving shortly are going to be an effective and fun solution to part of it. Taco Cat has enjoyed pouncing on the stray moth that dares encroach on her territory, so that will also help. Even the grumbling about the lack of wifi has subsided as new corners are explored, and new projects are dreamed up. If I could just come to some agreement with that whippoorwill, I think the keel of life right now might just about be even.

Liz Pinkey is a contributing writer to the Times News. Her column appears weekly in our Saturday feature section.