We Are Adopting a 100-year Heritage

There is an old sepia picture hanging in the living room of the house that shows three generations of the original settlers. Indeed, the current owners are direct decendents of those same Germans who staked their future in Texas. The original homestead likely covered a hundred acres or more but was subsequently divided among the heirs as their forebears passed on to that great big dude ranch in the sky. And so the plots got smaller and smaller.

We spent a whole day there yesterday meeting with our architects, a local builder, the land surveyors and a farm insurance company. So I walked the site again for the first time since we signed the contract, this time in full knowledge that this little piece of God's country was going to be ours in about three weeks time. And I just loved the feeling. Home from college, one of our doubting sons came along with us. We think he has now converted to our vision, which is just as well. It could be his one day.
                 
I am excited about expanding my woodworking space. I really need it to be able to produce top-quality work. I walked through the old barn and can picture how it's going to look, re-built and re-purposed. The builder reminded me that the floor boards, protected from the elements by a 100-year old covering of dirt, hay and general rubbish, may produce some fine lumber that could be used in the house. I must buy myself a pair of boots. No! no! no! -- not so that I can take on the Texan persona but so that I can walk around without the fear of been bitten by a sleeping Copperhead or Water Moccasin. And yes I need a pick-up truck. Hardly seems right pulling into this place in a red Audi A4 that barely clears the ground.

The builder reminds us that this must be "our" place. We agree. We know that our architects, so full of talent and vision, are going to come up with some great ideas. We can hardly wait to see them. But I know the hardest part is going to be deciding between stunning features vs what's going to work for us. And see, I wrote an entire blog without once referring to our budget. Ikea cabinets anyone? Damn. There I go again.
                                                 



              






                                                           

Home is the Sailor Home From the Sea

It's been a busy week. The inspector has been and gone, leaving us with a good report on the state of the property. One of our biggest hurdles was getting an appraisal that closely matched our agreed price. Buying country property and establishing what it's worth is a bit hit-and-miss. It's not like you have a dozen identical properties on which to base your price. But with some advise from our realtor and pouring over a handful of "comps", we made our best guess. The appraisor agreed. We were spot on. Yes! That felt good. We have ordered the survey and are now working on getting the septic system inspected. We have a June 10th closing. I have that feeling like you get when you get to the top of that first big incline on a roller coaster when you know you're in for a ride and there's no going back. Wheeeeee!

Our first argument yesterday over gates and fencing of all things. My partner wanted to put a gate on the driveway to secure the site when we're not there and leave the existing fence as-is. It's a sad looking metal post and wire affair. I wanted to install a cedar split-rail fence with a gate. It'll make the place look nice. Problem was we didn't realize we had a difference of opinion until I'd spent an hour on the phone with fence installers trying to get an estimate. I hate wasting time. And so I got a little hot under the collar. Miscommunication is the bain of marriage. Still not sure of what we're going to do other than defer the decision until later.    

Sailors are a strange bunch. Comes from all that time looking at nothing but sky and water. It brings about a a unique philosophy that is quickly recognized among those who have spent long spells at sea. My wife bought me an antique oar for my birthday. A splendid, large, solid piece of wood that was made for rowing real boats in big oceans. I immediately got the significance. From old salt stories, when sailors get ready to leave the sea they put an oar over one shoulder and walk inland. When someone asks what that is over their shoulder, that's where they stop and build a retirement home. We're there.                              

             
                              

Houston Time vs Brenham Time

On learning about our decision to move to the country, people react in one of two ways. There are those who are genuinely pleased for us, and those who frown and say something like, "Why the hell are you doing that!" or "That's gonna be a lot of work you know!" Like we'd never given this move more than a moments thought. As for the work, well all I can say is beware of invitations to outside BBQ's in the country or weekend trips "to see the property". There, I've said it and you have been suitably warned.

Ok, so while I'm warning people let's get something else cleared up. This is neither a ranch nor a farm. In practical terms it is too small to be either. We don't intend to keep cows, sheep, horses, pigs or goats. My partner has these occasional visions of keeping a coop full of hens and a pond full of ducks, but I hardly think this qualifies it as a farm. And other than a lot of grass, we won't be growing anything outside of a vegetable garden. I know it's popular to have a "ranch" or an "old farm" in the country but I think that's pretentious. We'll call it what it is, a homestead.    

In our pre-closing activities we are noticing two things about the country. One, people are - as they say here in Texas - mighty friendly. And two, things happen on a different time scale. And by time scale I am talking about much, much slower. We are having to learn that things don't move at Houston speeds up there and that, I think, is good. Although those that know me well can appreciate that this pace doesn't sit well with my impatience. I'll try and learn, I promise.