Its taken a few years but it seems we have fallen for another farmhouse of yesteryear. Before we moved to our suburban Half-Acre Homestead, we considered renting what we nicknamed “the little red house.”
It was a single story, clapboard farmhouse painted in cheeky red paint complete with white trim. My Homestead Hottie loved the country charm that oozed out of every gable and porch support. I was in awe of the two matching barns, fruit trees and large garden space.
We were smitten and in love with the place until we got into the nitty gritty. The owners weren’t interested in a lease/purchase option. They would continue utilizing the barns and the large garden space for their own pursuits and could visit at anytime they desired. The buzzer of defeat sounded louder with each passing caveat until our love for “the little red house” turned into unflinching disappointment.
As always, it was meant to be. We settled into a new, burgeoning neighborhood and scored a great house for a great price. We’ve now almost lived in our Half-Acre Homestead for four years, a remarkable amount of time for us to stay in one place. Now we feel like we’re busting out the seams though. With our two darling daughters running underfoot and my daily work commute running 45 miles each way, we’re ready for some more room closer to my employer. The suburbs just aren’t for us anymore. Between battles with the HOA and feeling smothered by the surround of neighbors, that means a move to the country is in order.
The search has begun and we’ve already found ourselves falling for another farmhouse. For now, we’re calling it the “little blue house.” Two stories, bright blue, white trim and a touch of gingerbread make this country home look so inviting…that is once you get past the jungle of overgrowth taking over the 40+ acres here. Then there is the caveat that the house is listed as “uninhabitable”. It seems there are a couple of holes in the roof and nobody has stepped foot inside for 5 or more years.
It could be a nightmare of nesting vermin, rotted floors and a molding basement. It could also be some weather-beaten bones of a classic Midwestern farmhouse waiting for that one breath of new life. We’re already daydreaming of restoring those 40 acres, the hardwood barn with classic gray patina and then the “little blue house”. I can already hear the laughter of our two girls as they thump along the nearly 100 year old hardwood floors, feel the breeze while sitting in the shade of a wraparound porch, smell Homestead Hottie’s goodies baking in the cozy country kitchen and feeling the warmth coming from the wood-burning fireplace on a cold winter’s eve.
Yup…it’s official. We’ve once again been bitten by farmhouse envy.
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