Small town.

This is the door to my cottage in a small sea town in the Northwest.  To reach it, you have to go over a bridge of sorts, as the house sits above street level. At night, the bridge is lighted from below! A grand entry for a modest cottage. Off this bridge, before you reach the street, you travel on pea gravel, watching your step lest you step on deer poop.

Deer roam freely, and often stop by this camellia bush for breakfast.

This picture was taken a while back, around Halloween. The pumpkins didn't invite people up to the house; the footbridge did, and does, every single day. And this cranberry door.
Just a few years ago I wouldn't have picked cranberry for my front door, a color that demands attention. I had doors that remained closed to the world. I didn't want anyone to case the place and return to rob my house.

There is a certain attitude about living in rural areas. Doors remain unlocked. Everyone's pet is known to everyone else.  And people's stories are shared easily.

All last week, we had to be out of town on medical needs. People took turns visiting our cat, clearing the garbage bin, picking up papers, looking out for any intrusion. I didn't even had to ask!