Wednesday, April 01, 2009

Like A One Night Stand

We fell in love. We really did. Just like that. We asked our real estate agent to show us this piece of land. Thirteen acres up past the redwoods to where it clears into a breathtaking panorama. It looks like just where want to live. We say, we don't care about the house. We care about the land. Is it beautiful? Oh my god, yes it is. Can we grow food here? Is the light right? We feel it in our hearts, our bones, our very breath... we could live here.

Of course there are a few things that need to be answered. You know, like who owns the crazy outbuilding on the property boundary. It has not one but two posters of four women with thong underpants riding Harleys? We hope it's on "our" property so we can reclaim the space and make it a workshop and garage. But we concede that the land is so beautiful, we'd almost consider putting up with a pervert with a heart of gold who collects scrap metal and fantasizes about make-believe women, to live there.

Our wonderful real estate agent spends two hours with us, as we walk and dream this land. It's on the market for $599,000. We could work that out if my brother and SIL will want to live there. We know they would like it once they drive up the winding ten miles to get there and find the saddle on this stunning piece of earth. It's so quiet there. Perfect for nesting down towards the end of life.

We go home with that sense of love. I tell Roger that looking for land is like wanting to fall in love. We open our hearts. We hope we ask the right questions. We believe in first impressions. Then our agent starts emailing us the news: The garage is owned by some guy who comes up once a week. The water supply is an unreliable hand-dug spring. The septic is handmade and has been cited twice by the county. The property has an earthquake faultline running through it.

Holy shit, says we.

And we are reminded of a poem by Lawrence Ferlinghettii:

See

it was like this when

we waltz into this place

a couple of Papish cats

is doing an Aztec two-step

And I says

Dad let’s cut

but then this dame

comes up behind me see

and says

You and me could really exist

Wow I says

Only the next day

she has bad teeth

and really hates

poetry

1. Top photo, the cabin
2. Bottom photo, the wood-fired sauna building taken from the cabin deck

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