Going North

Once upon a time ago (this is how my daughter was starting stories for a while and I love it), we lived in Indiana for a year with our friends the Gaitans. This was after we had lived in Florida for basically the entirety of our marriage (we got married less than a month before I moved to FL from KY by myself and then Nate followed me 6 months-ish later) and primarily I had decided I was done with this perpetual summer thing and I wanted seasons. I though I convinced Nate to come along, but I actually think he just did it because I wouldn’t shut up about it, and then the move back to Florida from Indiana was my turn to pretty much be in that position. So we each had a move that was more one of us than the other, but hopefully this one will end up being the one where we’re truly both all in.

Indiana taught us a few things. We were indeed pretty much mentally and physically done with perpetual summer. Indiana was not our place (though we did know some cool people there). We did, in fact, as our adult selves, actually like having winter and seasons. I remember when I was teaching and it was nearing the end of winter with quite low temperatures still and my coworkers were bemoaning the cold and I was thinking to myself, “I’m good with this.” Part of going north then was to discover whether we actually were okay with winter or whether I had really hyped it up in my mind as a knitter and from playing in the snow during my childhood and the brief winter period I had when I lived in Bowling Green, KY in 2009-2010. Nate grew up in Massachusetts, so it’s not like he is unfamiliar with a real winter with lots and excessive snows and cold snaps, but I’d really only had snows and winter when I was young or for a few years here and there as we lived in cold areas at various ages.

Turns out, it’s not just an excuse to wear all the things I enjoy knitting now. Though, this is a definite plus. Guys! The sweaters I can knit! I have currently as of today been able to wear woolens only a few nights since winter started, and that’s only because we basically don’t even set the heat to turn on until it is dipping into the 40’s outside.

When we lived in Indiana, we took a trip over to Massachusetts. This was actually my first time to visit New England, but boy was it the best time of year to go. We went in October, stopped in New York on the way for a camping trip (sadly, this was the last time we’ve been camping) and were in New England for peak autumnal bliss. Apple picking, leaf crunchy, the whole bit. We went up to Maine (another first for me) and it’s not that I hadn’t basically loved New England before (albeit entirely in theory based off all my knowledge of the things it is as a place and my love of crisp air and spiced cider), but now I could truthfully add it to my short list of places to end up. Requirements included: a full four seasons, good gardening (at least 10 acres), mountains (if not there, then very close), regular precipitation (important for growing things), and reasonable access to the coast (for Nate, and if not the coast, then good river and lake fishing).

We looked in Maine. In fact, we put offers on two houses in Maine. Both were 1800’s farmhouses with barns and between 20 and 40 acres. One looked very much like The Firefly Inn from Gilmore Girls and the other was amazing because it had a stream running through the property (something I think I would both love and be moderately terrified of these days as a parent of a toddler). As it is, we didn’t end up buying a house in Readfield or Appleton Maine, though I feel confident either of those places would’ve been phenomenal as well. We also put offers in on two properties in New Hampshire, one of which was 70 acres and both of which had either riverfront or stream adjacent property. But – this was at the height of the market basically just being insane.

Ultimately we decided to stop looking in Maine, not because we don’t think Maine is wonderful and gorgeous, but because while we’re dreamers, we also try to be practical and there are job related things involving eventual transfers and continuances of work that are much more likely in a place with multiple locations to choose from and with a market within driving distance of those places that isn’t just…well, atrocious. Portland, ME would be the Maine area and it is the most expensive city in the state and while we maybe could’ve managed to get a place within driving distance of there with 10+ acres, the pickings were mighty slim and getting slimmer as the market started to gain in insanity. The overall economy of New Hampshire seems to do better and provides more opportunities overall, not to mention the lack of state tax and income tax, which I’m a fan of. Boring, very adult reasons that don’t include the big plans and dreams we have. I suppose if we really were to just dive in and go for it, there were quite a few other options, but I think the wee one helped curb some of that instinct a bit.

So, after being outbid more than once by a very hefty margin that we foresaw happening again (and yet still couldn’t accurately predict since putting in offers on property is a total guessing game when trying to get it and yet save as much of your purchase power as possible), we decided to go a more non-traditional route. I used this software for a month to gather leads based on specific criteria (oh yes, I neglected to mention above that we wanted an old house, because New England is home to many of the oldest houses in the country, many of which are sadly getting bulldozed in favor of short-lived modern construction methods). I wrote over 50 handwritten letters and a handful of emails to people inquiring about purchasing their property – explaining a bit about who we are, what we want to do as far as growing our own food, building things, raising animals, and using the old-world skills we’ve acquired so far. The coolest thing in this process (next to actually getting a place) was the handwritten cards I received in return and the few phone calls from people. One gentleman called and we had a nearly hour long conversation – he didn’t want to sell me the property since there were still family members who were willing to take care of it, but he said he almost wishes he did, since we were the kind of people he’d like to sell to. We talked about the property, the history of it in his family, and the restoration he’d undertaken on the property. It was a great conversation and moment of connection with someone over a thing we clearly we both appreciated despite never having met.

I’m only marginally disappointed that the property we ended up purchasing actually came after sending an email rather than a handwritten letter. It was, I thought, maybe one of the less ideal leads since I couldn’t really see much of the property (if you could see the google map view, you’d understand, it was from 2013 and the place was entirely shrouded in wild), the tax card wasn’t accessible online, and it had been vacant for quite a while. But, I found an email address, the next day had another hour long conversation with the owner who had inherited the place from his dad and held onto it for sentimental reasons, the realtor walked it and sent us photos and videos the day after that, and the next day we signed an offer and had a contract.

So, we begin, here in the south, in central Florida, our journey of heading north to central New Hampshire. We are the stewards of a circa 1785 built farmhouse with a connected ell and barn. There is a well room off the back right side of the ell (the well is a hand dug stone lined well of the fairy tale variety except for the fact that it’s in a boarded up old building that looks a little spooky at the moment). The 3-seater outhouse is just off the middle-rear of the ell, and this all sits on close to 33 mostly-wooded acres. It was formerly farmland (a local utility repairman says he remembers when it was mostly fields when he was a kid some 40-something years ago), but has grown in significantly in the almost 30 years it’s been unoccupied or only occasionally occupied.

To say we’re excited about this is an understatement if ever there was one. Oh the sweaters I can knit!