A couple of weeks ago I visited my friend Bob near the little town of Waverly. That’s out past Isle of Wight, for those of you who are unfamiliar with the fringes of Hampton Roads. 

Until recently, Bob lived in Ghent. But he’d lived in the country before and missed the solitude. After an intensive search, he found a listing too good to pass up: “For rent,” it said. “1870s farmhouse on 100 acres of land. $675 per month.”

I was familiar enough with the drive to Waverly, which is situated off route 460. But until my visit to Bob’s place, I’d never explored the side roads in that neck of the woods. It was an eye-opening experience. 

The drive to Bob’s place takes about an hour and 15 minutes. The last five-mile stretch passes through thousands of acres of farmland. The house, in turn, sits about a quarter of a mile from the nearest road on a vast lawn sandwiched between two soybean fields. Beyond the fields are woods. 

For two hours or so, Bob and I sat on the front porch, in the company of his dog and several hummingbirds, and talked about other places we’d lived. 

While Bob wasn’t new to this way of life, it was entirely unfamiliar to me. 

I grew up in Staten Island, New York, and although there were ample stretches of woods and ponds near my house when I was a young child, it certainly wasn’t rural. Later I lived in Manhattan, before relocating to Norfolk, where I settled in Larchmont and later in Ghent. 

The appeal of Ghent, for me, is the strong sense of community—and the fact that you can live on a relatively quiet street yet remain within walking distance of stores, pubs, theaters, art galleries and concert halls. 

But the longer we sat on that porch, the more appealing his farmhouse became. 

It reminded me of the houses you see in old Westerns. The only thing missing was a group of men approaching on horseback. I imagined eyeing them cautiously, shotgun in hand, and saying as the came to a stop, “What can I do for you fellas?” 

Yeah, I know. I sound like I’m 10.  At heart, I guess I still am. I also know that my little cowboy fantasy speaks volumes about the gap between my life experiences and the reality of country life. 

Still, there’s something very compelling about the idea of living in a setting where an evening’s entertainment might consist of watching the stars, or a distant thunderstorm, before going inside to read. 

In spite of this appeal, I doubt I’ll be moving out to Waverly anytime soon. Deep down, I’m a city boy. But it’s nice to know that such places exist within easy striking distance of our urban centers. My little day trip was just one more reminder that this area is incredibly diverse. And that, above all, is why I love Hampton Roads.