When (then, not yet) Husband and I began our search for land to build a new home on, there were several things we had in mind. We wanted something in the country. A quiet place to raise our children and grow old together. A place with room to grow a garden, maybe have a few animals. A place to explore and enjoy. A place to listen to the birds in the morning, instead of neighbors and traffic. A place where we could teach the kids the value of work, the way that we learned it. A place where we could help life slow down.
Life is different in the country. People are different in the country. Priorities are different in the country. That's what we wanted.
We looked at piece after piece of property. Mostly just farmland. With power lines running over head, or neighbors too close. Then we found it. The perfect place. Country feel, but just 10 minutes from town. In the community where Husband had grown up.
There were several pieces of land available. The lower property was being farmed... the upper pieces were covered with sagebrush and rocks. We were immediately drawn to the upper land, one piece in particular. The lower part of the acreage had been farmed at one point, so we knew it would work for a garden. And the upper part was covered in a huge rock, complete with caves and crevices. Perfect for growing children and their imaginations!
Something happened when we climbed up on that rock. I was filled with peace. Like I don't remember being filled before. It was amazing. Everything felt so right. This was the place. The place our children would explore and enjoy, learn and grow, grow up and visit with their children.
We made an offer. It was rejected. We left it alone. I was sick. We continued to look for another place. We came back to the butte. We still knew it was the place. We made another offer. And bought ourselves a rock.
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