People have been looking at our house, walking through the living room, dining room, kitchen, the bedrooms and bathrooms and lingering on the porch.
There’s something about a porch that invites conversation. So I’ve heard about what brings folks to these lovely rolling foothills from Santa Cruz and Carmel and beyond. I’ve heard about pets and hobbies, children and grand children, and what folks are looking for as they shop for rural property.
And everyone who comes through raises my hopes that perhaps our picturesque Victorian farmhouse on its 22 oak studded acres will be just what they want.
Even though I’ve dreaded selling this dream house of mine that Sweetheart Al built with love and sweat and artistry, I’m surprised at how much I’ve enjoyed showing potential buyers our house.
A friend who recently went through this house-selling process, told us that lots of people coming through her place made snarky comments about it.
Luckily for us, the folks looking at our house have all thought it was beautiful. Some have loved the living room with its wood stove, river rock wall and long leaf pine floor. Some have loved the large country kitchen with its six-burner heartland kitchen range and custom knotty pine cabinetry.
And everyone has loved the porch and the views that stretch east to the High Sierra.
Although we’ve had nibbles, there have been no bites. No offers.
And now that I’ve worked through my regret at having to sell our place, I think I’m ready to hand over the keys to someone else and move on to new adventures.
Isn’t it amazing (maybe I should say isn’t it ridiculous) the way we struggle against change, and then when we finally get to the point where we can accept it, and actually do accept it, it doesn’t come fast enough for us.
I want someone to fall in love with our house, buy it and move in and have the beautiful life we’ve enjoyed here or the past nine years.
But the iffy economy keeps people hesitating, even when you can see they want to take the step.
So Sweetheart and I continue living in a house that feels more like a showroom than a home (all our personal clutter boxed up and stuffed in the closets).
But outside, the world is its everyday magical self. The deer wander through at dawn and dusk. And sometimes early in the morning, the Jackrabbits race up and down the hill, making me laugh at their antics.
So we stand around in our empty kitchen, drinking our breakfast coffee and planning our day.
Maybe tomorrow our buyer will appear.