Welcome to My Pile of Rocks
Ten years ago today, I saw the man I would marry in New York’s Union Square. He stood under the statue of Honest Abe — a good sign of his character. Well-timed rays of the setting sun highlighted a little gray in his hair. Our eyes met, he smiled, and the rest is unfolding.
Today, the sunlight highlights a little more gray hair. And it’s rays are dappled by a dense canopy of trees in the middle of a forested pile of rocks — because we just bought land! I am terrified to report that after searching and saving pennies for years, we are have our own overgrown hunk of rural Vermont.
Just as searching for a life partner was nerve-wracking, hunting for land sucked. We started with a wish list of qualities:
- not too big,
- not too small,
- good views,
- close to home,
- inspiring feelings of safety,
- maybe a little sexy…
Then we struck out across five states to find dream land less than four hours from our tiny rented apartment in the City.
Our search for the right one included the usual stressors. There were unhinged characters, like a landowner-turned-poet, who led us to an abandoned trailer, where he yelled angry verses about lawyers. Another time, we almost gave up the search after fighting on a treacherous parcel that could be accessed only by crossing a rushing river. Then there was a painful setback after trusted real estate professionals misled us. And we were overcome with joy when we finally purchased the land we had lusted after for years.
The real work of getting to know our nearly 50-acre partner began during that first weekend of ownership. It was the most awkward honeymoon ever — drenching rains, the beginning of black-fly season, inquisitive in-laws, cleaning out a crime-scene of a long-abandoned camper, and burning off my eyebrows during the inaugural bonfire. The sun eventually broke through, illuminating bald spots, blisters, and our next steps.
Now we have to build a life, or at least a small cabin. The architect husband (“hubs”) is already hard at work on a master plan that will span the next 10–20 years. He is kind of amazing, and I look forward to sharing his work with you in the coming months. Meanwhile, I am researching logistical and bureaucratic pitfalls that might slow our progress — camping isn’t really my prefered way to enjoy nature. We are eager, too, to forge local connections with other thinkers and tinkerers, who you will meet soon.
In this new relationship, there will be many more years of frustrations and triumphs, and plenty of calls for advice! That is why I am writing today — to know that we are not alone out there, that when this tree falls in the woods, someone will be on the other side to hear it.
Tell me your stories of building a dream, and I will tell you mine. Leave a comment below, and share with others who might be going through a similar process.
