Pull Up A Chair, We’ve Got A Place To Sit

We did something crazy. I blame it on yoga.

John was chatting with our yoga instructor before class started. He was telling her about how “it” is his favorite spot in the high country to go cycling. Sugar Grove and Bethel area . . . Must be what they are talking about. I join the conversation. Seems she and her husband have been renovating an old farmhouse out that way. The house needed a lot of work but she said the views from the property made it all worth it. What a dream . . . This conversation evidently filed itself away somewhere in my brain.

Months later we got to tour our friends’ newly renovated house in Durham. It was amazing, of course. By the end of the night, we were selling our house in Raleigh and planning to be neighbors. Pick us out a house that needs just a little TLC. I was on Zillow the next day looking for properties and confirming there was no way we were moving to Durham.

But no harm in spending a few minutes looking at real estate . . . And that conversation with the yoga instructor popped in my head. I had never even thought of looking at property in Bethel. But next thing I knew, I was emailing John a link to an old farmhouse on one of his favorite cycling routes.

Me: Want to buy this?

John: That place is a dump . . . And besides . . . If I was going to have a different house in the mountains, I would want some land.

I kept mindlessly scrolling through the listing and came across the cutest little house listed just the day before. Modern looking, 1 bedroom, 1 bath, tiny little farmhouse on 10 acres. Email sent.

John: That’s interesting.

Me: I think so, too. Maybe we should drive out there this weekend?

John: Ok. We could do that if you want.

I wanted.

Fast forward to the drive up to the mountains on Friday.

John: So what do you want to do this weekend?

Me: Nothing really . . . Saturday we could ride out and see that house?

John: What? I’m not selling the house in Blowing Rock. I don’t know what’s gotten into you head or why you don’t like the Blowing Rock house anymore. It’s a great place! And I’m not selling it!!

Me: Whoa . . . I just said we could go look . . . It’s something to think about. It’s a whole lot less expensive than the Blowing Rock place, and, in the long run, could put us in a financial position take off on the boat sooner rather than later. . . All while still having a place in the mountains to get away to on the weekends… Just seems like something we might want to consider.

John: . . . .

(That was the end of that conversation on the drive. It hadn’t gone well. )

Saturday morning.

John: let’s go . . .

Me: where?

John: To see the house.

Me: But you said it’s a No.

John: Let’s just go see it . . . What else do we have to do?

I think he was feeling a bit guilty for trying to shut down my idea on the ride up. I played along.

We took the curviest, steepest route to the property. I gulped a few times thinking about trying to make the crossing over the mountains in the snowy months. We found Fathing Road and started up the gravel drive. The top of the drive opened to a picture perfect little house perched on a small rise, a barn downhill to the left and in between an open area with views spanning over the Bethel valley. I was giddy inside, but totally trying to keep my cool. I could tell John was getting excited.

John: Ok … fine . . . I have to see inside.

Totally a change in temperature for him.

Me: You were so grumpy about seeing the property yesterday . . . Why such a change of tune?

John: I knew once I got out here, I was going to want it.

We got access to the inside of the house later that afternoon. When we were in the basement, I looked up at the floor joists overhead.

Me: What’s going on here, John? It looks like really old joists have been sistered with the new. And look … that subfloor is really old.

Reasearch began as soon as we got back to Blowing Rock. A few google searches later, we learned a good friend, Chad Everhart, had been the architect on the redesign and reconstruction on what was a dilapidated, old mountain shack. The original structure was likely built in the mid 1920s by local farmhands to house those tending the cattle that use to graze the property. Chad’s worked had been featured in a number of articles and won him several accolades. https://www.bobvila.com/articles/mountain-shack-makeover/. We were shocked to have literally stumbled upon the place.

Neither us of slept much that night. I had this feeling of the universe shifting and shifting us with it in the direction of Bethel.

Needless to say, the offer went in on Monday. I was crushed on Tuesday when we received an email saying we didn’t get the property. Someone had outbid us with an offer on the same day. I was devastated. I felt down deep in my being the house was supposed to be ours. I mean . . .what made me look at the listing? A place right in the heart of where John cycles? And it was designed by our friend? Come on. Totally meant to be our story.

John felt the same and immediately resent our offer at full list price.

A day that seemed like a century went by. Finally we heard from the agent saying she would entertain best and final offers. We had a shot. That night on the back on an envelope, we can up with a number . . .the best we could do. With all our hopes and a peace offering to the universe, we sent in our new offer. If we didn’t get it, it wasn’t our destiny.

But we got it . . .

And we love it . . .

John named it “Places to Sit”. I’ll leave it to him to explain that one.

I’ve pulled up a chair on the backporch, and I am writing this blog listening to the breeze and the flow of the creek that runs down the side of the property. We’ve spent the last few days here on a mini staycation. We don’t have a refrigerator or much furniture here yet. But we are here . . . Me, John and the pups. We raised our glasses to the universe this week and offered her a place to sit here with us while we enjoy this new adventure.