Last year about this time, I was looking for a new place. I wanted to move closer to my hometown, closer to my sister.
Alas, the same housing slump that brought the prices down in that area so that I might actually be able to afford it, also meant that the value of my place was down. There wouldn't have been enough equity in my place to come up with the down payment.
I found a house I really liked. The house itself was kind of odd, it was decorated in what I call a combination of Mexican restaurant/OK corral. That is the only way I can describe it.
One whole wall is a massive fireplace and brickwork on either side with built in niches. We have a sneaking suspicion that my Dad may have actually built it. He was a bricklayer, and the house (a couple of owners ago) used to belong to a friend of my brother's. I sort of remember talking about it, but I would have been in maybe 7th grade or so. That's a long time ago.
Anyway, so the house was kind of odd, but it had several nice outbuildings, and a really nice barn. I have barn envy.
This would have been my neighborhood.
The house would have been around the bend and slightly up the hill.
Up there on the left.
This one is looking the other way. I would have to drive 8 to 10 miles through this valley to get to town. Would have been an awful commute, huh?
I'm not sure why I even brought this up. Something about this time of year always makes me homesick, if that's the right word, for my hometown. Always has, and I never know why.