My fingers are crossed; my breath is held.
Today, I put earnest money down and signed papers to purchase a home in Big Stone County.
It’s a beaut–a four bedroom farmhouse with the original woodwork and hardwood floors intact. An oval-windowed front door. A spacious kitchen that flows seamlessly into the dining area to make a large work and entertaining space.
It’s on a double lot–LOTs of space and light for growing things. And it has a huge-normous insulated shed (shed’s probably not the word for this gorgeous building) with plumbing, heating, and electrical that could form the basis for a food storage and processing facility.
Of course, it’s not all roses. It has the typical-of-the-area, shored-up-with-beams foundation. The siding is kind of hideous. It has a glass-top stove–bane of canners everywhere. The bathroom, while not as cave-like as I’d remembered it from the first showing, isn’t exactly pretty. This house needs love. It needs paint. It needs cracks filled, carpets torn out, and floors refinished.
But, oh my gracious, it is beautiful to me.
I’m not posting pictures yet. It seems too early–too much like tempting the gods. And I am too in love to jinx it.
The closing is in thirty days.
In the meantime, the mistress of the Twin Brooks farm and I cut up and sauced 97lbs. of tomatoes between 6 and 8:30 this morning. They’ve been simmering low and slow on her glass-top (see! it can be done!) stove all day, and that sauce should probably start making its way into jars and into the canner tonight.
Or maybe tomorrow morning.
But I suppose if I don’t change out of my office garb and into my kitchen witch clothes, I’ll just be mooning over the computer and pictures of my hopefully-home-to-be all evening.
I can dream and can at the same time.