How We Got Here

We found this place listed in the Second Hand News on a Sunday morning in November of 1999. We were supposed to be leaving Ashe County, but we took an unexpected turn-about.

I had finished my novel, Spanish Doors (although it became the first draft of the novel) and I was thinking about a new project. I mentioned this to a friend. "What I really want to do is create a writer's retreat, somewhere away from town that is quiet and close to nature." He offered his weekend home as a base for exploration. "Ashe County has been discovered," he said, "but check it out. It's a good time to buy."

I found the newspaper there by his fireplace, the Second Hand News with the ad: "50 acres in Grassy Creek."

At the time, friends were  actively concerned over Y2K and the possible collapse of modern communication. Maybe that's why we wanted a piece of solid ground to walk on. We got out of the car and walked the property, looking past the dilapidated buildings near the road. Had we not, we never would have fallen in love.

We trekked the cow paths and the old farm trail and tried to find a fence line around the property, not sure what 50 acres looked like. The price included only the land, but there were two barns, a stable, a woodshed, a chicken house plus two other foul houses, a tool shed, a cannery, and a small house. The house had been crushed by a fallen tree and exposed to the elements. Having no plumbing or electricity, we knew it could not be a home. Most of the buildings still held crocks, jars, ropes, beehives, buckets, and various other supplies and equipment. It had been 15 years since the owner died and willed the land to his son.

The loveliest characteristic was that behind the house, through a narrow passage between hills and over a small branch, we entered a magical place where the land opened up into magnificent bowl. Cows grazed the sides. Wild flowers (knee-high to shoulder-high)  were freeze-dried and beautiful and I could only imagine how they had looked in summer.

The hills were steep to climb but we took an around-the-rim approach, lessening the grade. We walked side by side in silent awe, with an occasional, "Do you think that field is part of the 50?" and a lot of deep breathing. Deer antlers, hawk feathers and marshy plants suggested a kind of life we couldn't see. Colorful fall leaves were crisp under foot, but the trees were blown bare already. What would this be in the growing season?

It took vision. We saw the potential. We fell in love. 

But we had to get back to Charlotte, to work and family, a busy life. When would we find time to look at other properties and compare prices and views and who knows what else? We called the owner back because he had planned to turn the sale over to a realtor the following Monday, but said if we might be interested, he would wait. I told him to give us two weeks. We closed on the property the week after Christmas, before the New Year, 2000.

What an exciting year. But that is only the beginning of the story.

I felt the presence of God here and I knew that it was not just about me, or us. God didn't mean for us to come here and stare agape, but share agape.

And so we started to build...