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what you aren’t supposed to do

Saturday, April 10th, 2010 by

After a grueling Saturday spent driving, driving, driving from one piece of land to another, we decided to just see a single lot—one we’d decided not to drive to the day before, because it was a ways away from where we’d been tooling around.

It was just over the county line from Orange into Chatham, which has all sorts of advantages here, not least a decidedly lower tax rate.

That did put it a good bit further from Hillsborough, which I wanted to live near because of the writers’ communities there, but hey, we’re just looking, right?  So—without Linda, who had a previous commitment—we grabbed our Garmin (brought our own, thank you, no to Hertz Everlost) and piled our stuff into the rented Ford Escape.

It was easy to get to, this lot; pretty much straight down 15/501, turn right on a pretty countrified road where horses and cows were leisuring in nice rolling hills, make a couple more short turns, and there we were.  We detoured down the driveway of a house for sale; the sign said “contemporary” and we could see an Asian-style roof from the road, so it seemed worth a look-see.  Nice place, if a bit small, but not quite what we were looking for.  Beautifully sited on its very sloping lot with a swooping driveway down to the house from the road.

Onward.

We saw a for-sale sign up ahead, but when we stopped and pulled out the information packet (just a single sheet of paper; how is that a packet?  Ah, this pedantic mind) we knew it wasn’t the lot we were looking for because it cost about $50,000 more than the listing had said.

Onward.

A right turn, and up the road on the left was another for-sale sign.

photo of Araya Lane land

Boulders on the perfect lot

This time we were in the right spot, and my heart leapt and sank at the same time because I just freakin’ fell in love.  If you’ve ever been to northern Ohio, near Cleveland, and seen a park called Squires’ Castle, you’ll have an idea of the kind of land we were looking at.

It rolled, but gently.  It was covered, completely, with hardwood trees; oak, maple, even a beech or two and maybe that’s a sycamore?

The sunlight shone down through the leaves, dappled the ground and the many boulders scattered across it like God was throwing jacks with them.

As we walked onto the lot (which, as it turned out later, was a happy home for ticks), it was as if we’d become engulfed in a fairy forest.  I fully expected to see hobbits come out from under one of those giant rocks.

So we did—well, I did—what you are not supposed to do: fell in love.  With a lot.  Dirt.  Ground with rocks and trees.  I expect that love will go forever unrequited.

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One Response to “what you aren’t supposed to do”

  1. Linda says:

    “So we did—well, I did—what you are not sup­posed to do: fell in love. With a lot. Dirt. Ground with rocks and trees. I expect that love will go for­ever unrequited.”

    Had we only known how true that statement would be….

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