I have a confession to make: I've been having a daydreaming DIY house affair. It's true, I have to come clean...I'm obsessed with another house. But my clear and obvious destiny to own and care for this other house has been prevented by my wife, and I pine for the loss of this dwelling I never had. My lovely wife cares not for the important things, like how much this house needs us, but rather about frivolous things like a pedestrian 20th century need for indoor plumbing, functional living space, and the apparently "extremely important" ability to drive up to this house on an actual driveway that isn't simply two wagon wheel tracks cut in the mud through the woods.
This obsession of mine began several months ago. Some may call it an accident, but I call it fate, the aligning of the real estate stars, or perhaps a kind glance from the DIY gods. While investigating what one can expect to pay for a large amount of land with an old house on it somewhere in the Virginia countryside, I was constantly faced with beautiful home after beautiful home, but each with a shockingly high price tag that was far less attractive.
Having a "can you believe how much this costs?!" moment while investigating pipe dream after even more unrealistic pipe dream, I stumbled across a beautiful diamond in the (very) rough. Among the well manicured lawns and historic structures of Virginia horse country, this jewel called out to me from the tiny preview photo.
I rubbed my eyes, surely they were deceiving me. Could it be true? A Victorian gem in need of a *tiny* bit of TLC on 50+acres of land!
What's that you say? You think the house looks like it's falling down? Probably haunted? Definitely has snakes? And you can't imagine someone in their right mind purchasing it? Oh ye of little faith!
Love at first sight doesn't begin to describe my feeling while looking over the details in the listing. Built in 1878 in the Shenandoah Valley countryside of Virginia, this farmhouse has sat untouched for decades. (Cue the "Yeah, no kidding!" from the peanut gallery while looking at the peeling paint on the exterior.)
Where many may see a tear down, I see a gorgeous Victorian farmhouse full of charm and potential in the middle of 50 wooded acres. Unlike many homes of the era, it's not been tinkered with and stripped of its character. It's not built too close to the road, it's secluded and quiet and not adjacent to a large housing development. And the 50 acres on which it sits are nearly completely wooded, not a mass of property that needs to be continuously mowed, maintained, and manicured.
When I first discovered the home I excitedly shared it with Wendy, absolutely certain she would join in on my excitement. Like Ralphie from A Christmas Story, imagining his teacher's joy when reading his report, I showed Wendy the amazing photos. She was not impressed.
Certainly something was lost in translation. I read the description aloud...
"51 +/- wooded acres with about 1 acre open in front of a wood siding farmhouse built in 1878, no indoor plumbing but house has a hand dug well, but house has fantastic possibilities with original plaster walls and nice wood work trim, house has 100 amp electrical service survey shows 2 parcels (49.5475 and 1.6991 acres ), dividable into 2 lots and a residue"
"Wait...What?!?," she said. "What do you mean, no plumbing? Oh, hell no, there's NO way I'm buying a house with you that doesn't have plumbing," she insisted. "We *have* plubmbing and look how long it's taken us to get nice bathrooms," she reasoned. "That house may be perfect or it may have a lot of problems, but the only one thing I even need to disqualify it from ever being a home that we own is the lack of plumbing. Does this look like the face of someone who would enjoy frequenting an outhouse?," she...well, yelled really.
What had happened? I really didn't understand. How was she not seeing the brilliance of this home and its character. Had I shown her the wrong house? I double checked, nope, right house. Based on Wendy's response and sound of my dreams being crushed you would have thought I was asking for an "official Red Ryder Carbine-Action Two-Hundred-Shot Range Model Air Rifle!" And she started dancing around and singing, "You'll shoot yer eye out, you'll shoot yer eye out." It was over as quickly as it had started. I took my shot and I missed, the clock ran out, and I had the rest of my life to think about what I'd done wrong with the failed pitch.
Confused by Wendy's odd reaction, I've shown this house to several friends and begin going through all of the positives and how great it is. Oddly enough, many have a very similar, and sometimes far more negative view than Wendy. Some question my sanity, while others praise Wendy's "patience" with me. Weird, I'm sure she must have gotten to them, nothing else can explain it!
Often, when they see the first photo, which made me fall in love, many say, "Um, yeah, that home is probably haunted." Then they see the next photo, which is also in the listing.
"Yeah, it's pretty much totally haunted by those people right there." I'll tell you one thing, I'm friends with a with a whole lot of alarmists. However, if they're right, how often to you get a house listing that actually includes a photo of the people who will possibly be scaring the bejesus out of you?! It's a rare treat, I guarantee you.
The crusty exterior is far from "toast" or "too far gone," instead it's just waiting for the right person with the right vision to come along and breathe a breath of fresh air into the tired home.
For those of you who simply can't understand my attraction, I don't blame you, It's far too easy to be distracted by the exterior appearance, which suggests a home that may be lived in by families of raccoons, poltergeists, or worse, hoarders. But the interior is what sealed the deal for me.
The details of the home, like the mixed species wood staircase with chunky newel post and beautiful floors...
...the original stained glass builtins...
...the figured wainscoting...
...beautiful original doors...
...and the many fireplaces all represent the building blocks for beauty.
Obviously it's not a move-in ready place, but the bones are there, and more than the bones the details and all important old home character are completely intact.
There's a well on the property, and with 50 acres I can install a septic system to one day put actual plumbing in the house. And with all of that space, I can't help but think of geothermal heat, raising a salvaged 100 year old barn that could play double duty as a wood shop and guest house, eventually a pool, outdoor kitchen with wood fired pizza oven, and even a long driveway with bricks near the house and crushed oyster shells all the way to the street.
Sure, there's a lot of work to do, but I'm not afraid of a little work, I'm actually excited by it! It's a chance to revive this home, make it our own, turn it into something spectacular, awe inspiring, rejuvenated! I want those people who might be haunting the house to have their ghost socks knocked off!
So who's with me? Who wants to see what we can do with this house and the surrounding land? Who believes in me and my vision? Who can see what I see and knows we can transform this home into something truly spectacular? Who wants to see Old Town Home turn into The Farmhouse Without Plumbing? I'll tell you one person not on this list of "who." My lovely wife...and that, my friends, is what they call a "deal breaker" in the business of married DIY.
Have you ever coveted a home your better half knows better about? Perhaps, like me, where your DIY eyes are plenty bigger than your renovation stomach? I can't be alone in my foolish and reckless abandon.
