So, I’m buying a farm.. . . a small one – just 10 acres and a little one-bedroom house built in 1920. But a farm, my dream, right there – just like that.
(Okay, so there are contracts and financing and things, I realize, but I’m letting myself roll on ahead of myself for a bit before I have to be too practical.)
When I wrote my post yesterday, this was just the faintest tug at my heart – some pictures on a computer screen. I hadn’t even contacted anyone about the property yet, and now, here, 24 hours later, I’m working to make it mine. Holy Moly!
I’ll be living in Nelson County, Virginia, near Lovingston (for all you mappish folk). On my north side, there is a farm with horses still shaggy from winter, and on my south side, some massive black cattle lazed around their pasture. I think my alpacas will fit right in.
The farmhouse has just one big room downstairs and one big room upstairs, but there’s an adorable pass-through from the kitchen to the living room/dining room, and a dishwasher – a dishwasher. Glory be!
In the entry hall, and I use the term “hall” very loosely, there is a little brass-like “chandelier” with three light bulbs. When I mentioned that to the real estate agent he said, without missing a beat, “That conveys with the house.” I like this guy.
Now, my bathroom sink is around the corner from the toilet in a bathroom that has two doors for all of its 15 square feet, and there is a profound scent of cat urine that will require many applications of enzyme, some good paint, and some sanding . . . but honestly, it’s just what I need – the house, not the cat urine. A place to be, to write, to dream further.
So if all goes well, this summer, I will be recruiting help with yard cleaning, stink bug carcass removal, and moving. I’m a little breathless at the thought.
The image here – yep, that’s it.