Farm Journal

Thoughts and images from life at Foster Road

Entry 1: OCTOBER 2008

Journal Entries

Decision day.

Linda Demetrick, my patient real estate agent, showed me the property for sale on Foster Road and I did not fall in love. We’d been looking for four years for my perfect country home, and honestly, this one did not sing to me.

Mostly I fell for the really hard cases, houses a century or more from their salad days but with authentic architectural style and at least vestiges of fine construction. Some wondrous bit of detailing was catnip to me—crumbling foundations be danged.

So the perfect property was a gem-in-the-rough at a price I could afford, a quiet location, fertile acreage, a working barn, and maybe a rushing stream or glorious view. Within my means, what we found were properties on the verge of collapse or mere feet from a highway.

The house at Foster Road was solid, but to my eyes, woefully plain and stripped of whatever character it may once have had by years of serviceable updating. I looked. I left. I came back. Another offer was made and I had to decide.

I needed a second opinion. I packed Bert into the Beetle and headed out just after sunrise to walk the property and see if it felt right. It was hard not to be enchanted by the quiet land and the trees and the way the barn set on it’s rise. It was impossible not to be swayed by an old dog returned to his youthful romp by a wide open field and eight acres of new smells.

So my offer was made. The deal would be done. The house may not yet be all I dreamed, but it’s a place I will make my home. A new chapter will begin.