our story
“Do you want me to go with you,” my husband asked as I headed out the door. I sighed and grumbled. “Yes and no,” I replied. “I’ve been looking nonstop for the last month, every free chance I get, and I know that the one time you come along, we’ll find it. That’s just your luck.”
He just smiled and followed me out the door.
We had several rental properties we’d acquired through our years of marriage, but after attending a few family weddings, we started noticing the different venues where they were being held and began considering that as a possibility for us.
So, as the years passed, we’d kept a lookout for a location that would work for us, never seeming to find what we were looking for but never giving up the hope of finding it. Lately, I had really been on the hunt. I’d always dreamed of owning a farm but unfortunately they are literally nonexistent in our area, but I was hoping for a miracle. And that day in the early fall of 2016 we found it.
My husband drove as we began exploring the back roads around Gladewater. We’d driven for a few hours and had just turned down Highway 271 to head back home to White Oak when he suddenly braked the car exclaiming, “Did you see that?”
“What?” I asked, looking back. We’d just passed an old iron gate entrance with two faded wood pink houses off in the distance. The larger house looked Victorian, and I’d driven past it hundreds of times, always wishing I could go through it.
“Some guys were out at the front of the property tying orange ribbons on the trees,” he said. “Probably surveying. It might be for sale.”
“Somebody probably just bought it,” I sighed.
“I’m gonna go ask,” he said, quickly turning the car around.
We drove up beside the workers and learned that yes, it indeed was going to be for sale. It hadn’t even been listed yet but if we were interested, they told us we might call the realtor who would be listing it and get the information from them. The men let us drive back through the gate to get a closer look at the houses and barns. We instantly fell in love. It was perfect. Beautiful barns, beautiful land. Real live cows. As we were leaving, they told us that the property included the two houses, the two barns, an old blacksmith shop and the land.
“How much land?” I asked. We were hoping for 5, maybe 10 acres at most. Just enough to get a farm atmosphere.
“A hundred and eleven acres,” he replied.
As my husband drove away, we were both speechless.
“It’s incredible,” he finally said.
“Beautiful,” I responded.
“Perfect,” he said.
“But 111 acres,” I responded. “We’d never be able to afford it.”
“Nope.”
We drove a few more miles towards home in silence.
“Unless…” I began. “We could start selling some of our rentals… put our dream house on hold and put everything into this…”
He looked at me with that surreal look that I imagine someone would have when they are fixing to parachute out of an airplane for the first time. That crazy look. The look that says ‘Seriously? Are we really going to do this? Are we really going to jump out of this perfectly safe airplane?’
We jumped.