We were city folk in search of the elusive dream.
It was late August and the weather was hot, the humidity was high, and our expectations were wilting. He wanted one thing. I wanted something else.
We were house-hunting. Really, land-hunting as it were.
We traveled down the highway, double-checked the map once we passed yet another county line sign, and finally turned right onto an old dirt county road. Great big, beautiful trees created a shady canopy and it was enchanted.
And then we pulled up to the gates of the property and promptly grew silent. There were just no words. Granted, this was before Tiny Living and Tiny Houses became trendy, but - even so - the long-empty log cabin on stilts surrounded by tall, knee-high grass and backed by a large out-of-place observatory in the sky - was both fascinating and a horror to behold.
We were city folk and we were a little bit awestruck and a lot overwhelmed.
Yet we let a bit of our hearts there that first day. Enough that we went back, and then went back again. Three days later we'd made an offer and two weeks later we were the proud, yet clueless, owners of 43 acres that included lots of woods with overgrown trails, a log cabin on stilts, a working observatory, and an unfinished shop. Quite the combo. Quite the adventure.
We were city folk who had purchased the dream.
Where others saw dirt and filth, we saw a chance to establish my dream of a B&B. Where trails were overgrown, we saw future grandkids exploring nature at its finest. Where acres and acres were barren and parched, we saw pastures with horses and yards with free-range chickens.
We were city folk and we'd lassoed the dream.
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