Looking out my Backdoor: Micro slice of a simple life in paradise

When one lives in a tiny community, little things can tend to balloon into huge importance.

When I say “small community,” I don’t mean a place numbered in four digits, where you might recognize a couple thousand through ordinary daily contact: That young man with the ponytail works at the glass repair shop, the woman with red hair and big glasses clerk at the IGA and that over-dressed couple walks around the park every day with their dog, Riley. A place where you might know 200 people fairly well and count 50 as friends.

Nope. I’m talking a community with a warm-body count averag...