I’ve always found it humorous, the things that we remember when we look back to the near or distant past. For example, I can still recall with perfect clarity the sense of contentment that overwhelmed me the moment I stepped from my car onto the private drive of our farmhouse. This was the one. This was our future home. Sitting atop a gently graded hillside lay the picturesque setting of the quintessential white southern farmhouse set amongst the softly rolling pastures and charming picket fence.
What wasn’t to love?
Now then, full disclosure…we KNEW up front the home had been vacant for some time, years in fact, and due to its stagnant status it would likely need a great deal of good ol’ fashioned TLC to bring it back to life. We’d no idea how old the home was, its square footage, if anything even worked inside. …but I didn’t care. I should’ve, I know, fixer-uppers are nothing to take on without full consideration for the work and -flexible- budget that will come hand in hand and yet looking back, despite everything, I wouldn’t have done a thing differently.
From the first moment it has been an undertaking of Herculean effort, in which I owe credit to a great many others for their support and assistance. No, it isn’t perfect and absolutely no, it is not updated or working “as intended”, a week in and we’ve still no useable water…still here though. Told ya’, it’s love, but it is ours.
Home sweet home… a little bit more, one day and one glass of wine at a time.