Dear Current homeowners of my future farm,
When I was
little, I dreamed of becoming a farmer. I wrote stories about it, brought home
every single animal I could find that would let me catch it and drew pictures
of me with sheep, overalls and a pitchfork, much like American Gothic, only not
worth any money, unfortunately. When I was about 10, living in suburban New
Jersey, my parents brought me to a sheep farm in Maine. They were hoping the
smell and the dirty straw and musty barns would end my dreams of farming.
However, 26 years later, I am still dreaming and the dream goes something like
this…
I am standing in the hazy
light of late afternoon, grass up to my ankles, jeans rolled up to my knees. Small
bugs fly lazily through the yellow rays. I reach up for an apple which I have
grown from a small wisp of a tree with water, fertilizer and so much hope. The
kids are somewhere nearby, chasing the chickens pecking the dirt around us for
bugs. Michael is on the tractor, ready to bring back the baskets filled with
things we have picked.
Oh, but it is not always summer on our farm.
The first few minutes of a winter morning are filled with discontented sighs
when the bed is so warm and outside so cold. I find my muck boots and head
out, breath trailing behind me on the air. In a few minutes, I am warm with
work and a sense of purpose. The barn smells of animals and dry straw, which
wakes me up as the smell of brewing coffee does for some. Morning chores done,
I head back to the house to the sounds of my family waking.
When our five
children arrived over the years, our small ranch in Lee seemed a little too
cramped and we packed up, left our chickens to the excited new owners and moved
to a much bigger house in a neighborhood here. Despite the perfect lawns around
us, we built our compost bins, added raised garden beds and planted fruit trees
and blueberry bushes on our half acre. We have wonderful neighbors, luckily,
who don’t seem to mind our brush piles, rabbit hutch and gardening tools that are sometimes left out.
However, we have lived here for a year and half now and it seems the dream of
having land just won’t die. Thus, the daily searching of realtor.com and
Zillow, which finally leads me to the point of my letter.
We love your
house. We love the slightly crumbly silo, the wooden beams, the farm sink and
the beautiful land that surrounds it all. I love the pictures of the nooks and
crannies and dream of myself writing in one of them, hot cup of tea in hand.
However, despite being a dreamer, I am also a realist. I do understand
economics and realize that people need returns on investments. That being said,
if one never reaches for the stars, one never gets there. So, I am sending off
this missive much like my children wish on stars at night. We would like to
make an offer in good faith and add the assurance that your house will be loved every day.
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