In 1999, when we first started our search for land to buy here in Vermont, we drove up into the hills of the town we now live in. We ended up on the above hillside, which resembles something from The Sound of Music. From there we went to the town clerk to see if we could get the name of the owner and find out if they'd be at all interested in selling their land to us. Totally presumptious, I know, but we were young, wet behind the ears, and really wanted to get our hands in the dirt and start farming. We spoke with a lady, who said she owned the land with several other people, and that the other people weren't interested in selling. We moved on.
We ended up finding 32 acres about ten miles north of that hillside. We cleared an acre, built up a real bare-bones cabin and lived, with no electricity or running water, for a couple of years. The first summer there, we had four or five friends stay on the land as part of a work-trade situation. One of the couples built a tree house and stayed in that. The other couple of friends put up a tipi in the woods behind the cabin. We built an outdoor kitchen and lived this strange, communal summer through. We called it The Compound. I don't know how much work was actually done but we had a really good time.
Bill and I didn't survive cabin life. When we split I moved in with a girlfriend for a couple of years. By the time we got back together he had rented out the cabin and begun leasing the farm we live on now. Strangely enough, that Sound of Music hillside we had inquired about years ago was the adjacent land to the farm. It's the hill I've mentioned in prior posts, the one I climb at night and sometimes talk to the moon.
When Bill began leasing the farm, the owners made mention that prior renters had worked out hay contracts with the woman, Sara, who owned the land next door. She lives now in NYC and we ended up calling her again, five years later, and we're still in the processing of building up her pasture to eventually hay it. Turns out that she owns the land with her husband, father and maybe a sibling or two. I guess her father was the one who didn't want to sell the land and from what Sara has said, once he passed they were going to think more seriously about selling. She's driven up to meet us a couple of time, once with her father, a sweet old man who just wanted to come up and take a look at this land he's owned since the seventies.Her father passed away a year and a half ago. Sara knows we're still passionate about that land and this fall, we even went so far as to write her a letter, explaining that now that we had finished building the house on the land we own and it's all rented, that we're starting to actively look for land to buy. While the letter was still in the hands of the pony express, a surveyor/appraiser that she had hired came up our driveway looking for directions to that hillside. Sychronicity.
Sara called us this week to let us know that they had gotten the appraisal back and wanted to let us know first before they put it on the market. I feel like I could cry every time I think about it.... and for mixed reasons. This little river valley has become my home. As far as having a place to put my roots, it's here. Ella has become a part of this landscape just as much as I have and there have been so many times that I've sat on that hill and dreamed of calling it home. And now that might just be a possibility. What scares the bejesus out of me is the prospect of having to build another home. I'm putting my faith in the hope that the second time around would be smoother, what with having more experience and know-how and having learned from the mistakes of the first attempt. That first house is a beauty and the finished product is amazing... it's hard to believe Bill drew it, designed it and created it. But executing it was a two year long nightmare of financial, physical, emotional and relational exhaustion. Can we do that again? Would it be as hard? Would our relationship survive that kind of wear and tear again?Whether it's worth it hardly seems a question but it's scary. Plus there's the matter of the debt we've accrued in finishing this last house. It seems almost silly to go to the bank asking for another mortgage on land when we have these random credit card debts not yet paid off. Relative to most Americans, I don't think our debt is all that much but still............
So there it is. The big hub bub of life right now. There are a thousand options now and we're not quite sure what the timeline is. How soon should we put in an offer? We're half afraid that if they go to a realtor they'll be told that they could sell that land for WAY more, which they could. I'm already envisioning where the barn might go, watching the geese overhead in the spring, where I could graze some sheep, maybe a small wind turbine?
One thing at a time.
Part of me feels like I want to just bundle up in snow clothes and lay on the hill and hear what it has to say about all this. HHHmmmmmmmmm
We ended up finding 32 acres about ten miles north of that hillside. We cleared an acre, built up a real bare-bones cabin and lived, with no electricity or running water, for a couple of years. The first summer there, we had four or five friends stay on the land as part of a work-trade situation. One of the couples built a tree house and stayed in that. The other couple of friends put up a tipi in the woods behind the cabin. We built an outdoor kitchen and lived this strange, communal summer through. We called it The Compound. I don't know how much work was actually done but we had a really good time.
Bill and I didn't survive cabin life. When we split I moved in with a girlfriend for a couple of years. By the time we got back together he had rented out the cabin and begun leasing the farm we live on now. Strangely enough, that Sound of Music hillside we had inquired about years ago was the adjacent land to the farm. It's the hill I've mentioned in prior posts, the one I climb at night and sometimes talk to the moon.
When Bill began leasing the farm, the owners made mention that prior renters had worked out hay contracts with the woman, Sara, who owned the land next door. She lives now in NYC and we ended up calling her again, five years later, and we're still in the processing of building up her pasture to eventually hay it. Turns out that she owns the land with her husband, father and maybe a sibling or two. I guess her father was the one who didn't want to sell the land and from what Sara has said, once he passed they were going to think more seriously about selling. She's driven up to meet us a couple of time, once with her father, a sweet old man who just wanted to come up and take a look at this land he's owned since the seventies.Her father passed away a year and a half ago. Sara knows we're still passionate about that land and this fall, we even went so far as to write her a letter, explaining that now that we had finished building the house on the land we own and it's all rented, that we're starting to actively look for land to buy. While the letter was still in the hands of the pony express, a surveyor/appraiser that she had hired came up our driveway looking for directions to that hillside. Sychronicity.
Sara called us this week to let us know that they had gotten the appraisal back and wanted to let us know first before they put it on the market. I feel like I could cry every time I think about it.... and for mixed reasons. This little river valley has become my home. As far as having a place to put my roots, it's here. Ella has become a part of this landscape just as much as I have and there have been so many times that I've sat on that hill and dreamed of calling it home. And now that might just be a possibility. What scares the bejesus out of me is the prospect of having to build another home. I'm putting my faith in the hope that the second time around would be smoother, what with having more experience and know-how and having learned from the mistakes of the first attempt. That first house is a beauty and the finished product is amazing... it's hard to believe Bill drew it, designed it and created it. But executing it was a two year long nightmare of financial, physical, emotional and relational exhaustion. Can we do that again? Would it be as hard? Would our relationship survive that kind of wear and tear again?Whether it's worth it hardly seems a question but it's scary. Plus there's the matter of the debt we've accrued in finishing this last house. It seems almost silly to go to the bank asking for another mortgage on land when we have these random credit card debts not yet paid off. Relative to most Americans, I don't think our debt is all that much but still............
So there it is. The big hub bub of life right now. There are a thousand options now and we're not quite sure what the timeline is. How soon should we put in an offer? We're half afraid that if they go to a realtor they'll be told that they could sell that land for WAY more, which they could. I'm already envisioning where the barn might go, watching the geese overhead in the spring, where I could graze some sheep, maybe a small wind turbine?
One thing at a time.
Part of me feels like I want to just bundle up in snow clothes and lay on the hill and hear what it has to say about all this. HHHmmmmmmmmm
1 comment:
This is beautiful. I hope your dream hill works out for you. You have a lot of courage to undertake this all.
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