This is the strange tale of the house that waited two years for our family.
Luckily, he was called away for a long phone call and I was left with his pile of forbidden property files! Obviously I jumped out of my chair and started going through and, lo and behold, found a picture I liked. “Voilà!” I exclaimed to the harassed agent when he came back into the office. He looked worried, left the office and returned with Monsieur le Directeur. They explained that it was not possible for me to see the house because it belonged to a big local family, and because my husband wasn’t with me that day, and because and because…..
I persuaded them that I was capable of visiting a house without my husband being present, so against their better judgement off we went.
What can I say? that evening I told my husband I had found the place we needed to raise our children, and that night was filled with sweet dreams.
The estate agent hadn’t finished surprising us; he wouldn’t take our calls, let alone inform the owners of our offer!
Weeks passed, and by chance a friend introduced us directly to the owner of the house. A large and complicated family, who wanted to sell one day, but not necessarily the next. My husband handled everything brilliantly, but it took a long long time, and our fourth baby en route. Yes, a very long time – two whole years with nobody else interested!
Some things are just meant to be. We may now be here forever and see our children married in the garden, or we may pick up sticks and live another adventure in a far off land. We will always be glad that the family has grown up here. It may sound foolish but I believe that this house has loved looking after us as much as we’ve loved looking after it.
68 comments
It was meant to be!
I would have waited, too.
Your happiness, and that of your family, is testament to your patience and persistence. It shows in every post, every photograph, this willingness to share the joy of beauty all around you.
Looking forward to Summer party settings!
Sharon, it’s not as strange as that – I’m utterly convinced that some homes (*) have souls who make it impossible for the ‘not right’ person to own it. This was clearly the case with our house in England too. Hero Husband looked at it on our frequent evening strolls after work and every time he said: I love this house. I wasn’t too keen, it looked way too big, but then, one day while walking through the village, I saw THIS house being ‘hung out’ in the real estate dealer’s window…. I immediately went in and asked about it and got the reply: Well, it was sold to a family w/children coming over from Oxford, but the job for the man was being cancelled and now I have to sell it again. I told the man NOT to put it up until my husband returned in the evening – we went to see the seller & property and after a short while (we had to sort out the money problem, this was our first house) we concluded the deal…
Fast forward 5 yrs later: Hero Husband lost his job and we returned to Switzerland, our house just could not be sold!!!! Everybody loved it but something or other didn’t work out. Some 18 months later (while we paid a gardener to keep the large outside in good shape and a neighbour for the inside care, airing, etc), we had an offer from a couple coming down from North – they were looking at properties for a looooong time, couldn’t find anything and totally fell in love with our house. They couldn’t afford our asking price but when we spoke with them, we KNEW that the house had found it’s new owners.
Later, when we visited them on one of our UK trips, they told us the amazing story: Our (former) home had a ghost or feeling about it – they never felt anywhere ‘right at home’ and our house was the only one that whispered ‘you’ve arrived, feel welcome’. I said the same thing the minute we entered the place the first time – and HH was happy because he was right wishing for that very house.
We are still in occasional contact and visit them for a cup of tea when we are in the area – they still adore it and we are so happy that the place found its rightful owners.
(*) I have a metal plaque/poster with a dachshund, reading: A home without a dog is just a house….
I love your story, Kiki. Thank you for sharing and I agree with the dog equals home part…
best,
Sharon
What a lovely story Sharon!!!
Dreams are made to happen in my book too!!!
A little piece of heaven.
I love the story…..not a bad place to spend the rest of your lives.
🙂
What a wonderful story! I did the same with our place–the agent had told me he had nothing that fit our needs, and while he took a call I went through his binder of listings. I pointed to one, and he insisted it wouldn’t work. I insisted back that I would be the one to decide that, after seeing it. We wanted trees. Big trees. We didn’t care much about the inside of the house, figuring we could change that. But trees? They take decades! We pulled up to the house and said we’d take it. And the inside? It wasn’t a house at all but a restaurant, and before that the village showers. So we completely made it over to our wishes–just as well. We’ve even kept in touch with the agent, who came around pretty quickly. A sale is a sale.
Sometimes it pays to take thing into our own hands 😉 I’m glad you found your dream home as well. The garden and trees can be just as important as the inside!
best,
Sharon
Beautiful story, persistence pays off Sharon. I live by that. X
Loved your story today, Sharon. It seems to be rather difficult to purchase a good property in France if you’re not French. I suppose I will continue to dream about it still.
It has nothing to do with being French , you get the same treatment from the agents (often worst) if you are French because then you should no better according to them. BTW I am french
Great story!!
Love your Blog. Hope to come to your book signing in Marietta, GA tomorrow. Your home is beautiful. I think there is a beautiful storyline for a magnificent novel in your Blog today. So enjoy your writing and pictures.
Hmmmm….how did we come to live in this 220 year old (which is old by USA standards), rambling house, surrounded by a grove of 200 year old pecan trees, situated in a tiny-but-charming town….and only twenty minutes from a major airport with international flights?……
Herve and I had, for at least seven years, wanted to move to “the country” (to whatever degree that might be the sort of “country” I actually grew up in). We looked at a number of places……all of which had immediate drawbacks (TOO isolated, TOO much work needed, etcetera). We finally heard of a 1764 house that belonged to the Colonial governor of North Carolina, so we went to view it.
It’s very-very beautiful…..but the interior was/is far too grand (I’ve got way too many rowsty terriers and spilly little nephews to be fussing about anyone’s smearing the 18th century Chinese wallpaper). We left the house and the agent, and we got into the car saying “Why pay one million dollars for something when the first thing we’ll be doing is tossing out all of the refinements?”.
As Herve was starting the car, I looked back through the pecan grove, saw this house (there’s an historic marker by the road, reading “the Webb House, circa 1800”), and I said “Why can’t we find a house like THAT???????”.
That evening, I exchanged emails with Frances Mayes (yes….she of “Under the Tuscan Sun” fame; she’s a neighbor and friend), and she asked “Oh, did you look at the Webb House?”. She and Ed had looked at it before buying the much larger house,Chatwood ,down the road. I had no idea that the house I wanted was, actually, for sale. So, basically?…Im sitting here right now, typing this in the old house that the author of “Under the Tuscan Sun” got for me (she didn’t, of course, PAY for it, but I wouldn’t have it if it weren’t for Frances).
To make a long story short?……we got on the phone, did some fast-working, and we got it.
One of the sweetest moments in my adult life occurred this past year, when one of the guests at a large party here was an 88 year old lady who was the last Webb to have been raised by her parents in this, her family’s house. I liked her a great deal, of course, but I still wasn’t prepared for the moment when she intentionally waylaid me in the back hallway, took both of my hands in hers, and said “You BELONG here……..”.
Isobel Webb has since died, but I can honestly say that I’ve never been so touched by a compliment in my entire life. It was really lovely moment.
Sincerely,
David Terry
http://www.davidterryart.com
David; what a great story – this clearly shows what blogs are about – communication amongst the readers, taking part and voicing opinions – all these home stories (not houses, homes!) are so special, wonderful and touching. Thank you
Dear David and Kiki,
I belive you are so right about the soul of a home and like cats and dogs they find you and you are theirs not the other way around.
My story is similar in that my husband found me at a friends Hallowen party and when we married he moved me into his ranch house in the Sonoran Desert where I could breed and train my Saddlebred horses and rescue Russian Wolfhounds and Saluki’s. It was a great house which I promptly made into a home. We had a wonderful fulfilling life until 18 years later he fell ill with cancer and made me vow I would stay in the house he built with his own hands from the stone fireplace to the chefs kitchen the stables and riding arena, guest house and the massive collation of exotic cactus in the gardens he nurtured each evening after work. I lied and promised I would stay, but I knew in my heart it would be to much for me to care for alone. When he passed my Mother went blind and moved in with me. I later sold the house to a couple from California who promptly began to renovate it and one day when Mother and I were settled in my new house in the city a former neighbor called me and told me that the whole house and barn and every tree ( of which there were 39 tree) had just burned to the ground. I could never go back there for many years as I had become a caregiver to my Mother who needed round the clock attention. She passed away last year and after 13 years I got into the car and drove to the old house location. To my surprise it was still a barren lot with nothing even growing on it. Not a sign of a tree or a cactus or a cement foundation and not even a weed remaind after all of these years. As I stood there reminissing my old neighbor from acrossed the dirt road saw me and walked over to say hello. He shocked me with a story of many other prospective builders who bought the property and then found it was going to cost them $75,000. to tie into the city water and sewer system before they could ever build on it. So each one in turn gave up and let it go back to the bank. My neighbor said he thought it might be haunted or cursed. Before we said our goodbyes he remarked, It was an electrical fire was it not? And I replied, Yes, I believe that it was. I then said, My husband was an Electrical Engineer did you know that? He rolled his eyes and slapped himself in the forehead and said, That explains it then! I said you don’t think… He interjected, Well, what do you think is the reason this land has no new owner? I got chills on my arms at the thought that the spirit of my vengefull husband had possibly caused the fire that removed his beautiful house so no one would ever live in it after I lied to him. I looked down at my feet I saw the only remaining recognizable object on the property. It was a big red rock my husband and I had collected from our last vacation together. I felt like my husband was reaching out to me to let me know I could reclaim the rock and remember he would always be here waiting for my return. That rock resides in my new yard at my new home that I built. I get a warm felling when ever I look at it and wonder if such a thing could ever have REALLY been so? I miss that wonderful house, but I have a very nice new one now and I plan to be here till I’m gone.
Thanks for reading my story. I’ve never told it to anyone, ever. Your stories just sounded to true and relatable to me. Thanks for the inspiration to tell it.
Suzanna
Thank you for sharing, Suzanna. That’s quite a story! I’m glad you were inspired to tell it.
best,
Sharon
Dear Suzanna, you must be so relieved to have been able to tell this incredible and yet so true sounding story. It does sound however more of a story of revenche somehow so your husband’s spirit must have been ‘haunting’ you over this long time, or did I understand you incorrectly? It made my (long) hair nearly stand up, so powerful this was.
I’m so glad you could share it and wish you God’s blessing on the rest of your way here on this earth. Kiki
Dear Suzanna,
Thank you, of course for your very moving/wonderful story. I thought it was quite lovely.
I wrote a post (which seems to have gotten lost) yesterday……so, I hope I’m not repeating myself on this blog. Still?…….your story of the home you and your husband owned reminded me of this very-wise passage from Isak Dineson’s “Out of Africa”:
“If I know a song of Africa—-I thought–of the giraffe, and the African new moon lying on her back, of the ploughs in the fields, and the sweaty faces of the coffee-pickers, does Africa know a song of me? Would the air over the plain quiver with a color I had had on, or the children invent a game in which my name was, or the full moon throw a shadow over the gravel of the drive that was like me, or would the eagles of Ngong look out for me?”
Thank YOU, in fact, for your beautiful reply.
Quite sincerely,
David Terry
Wonderful story, David. Thank you.
It was serendipity that you bought the house that was meant to be yours….
I love this story, David, especially the full circle moment with Isobel. Understanding the past of these homes who have grown up many children and been the backbones of family histories is part of the magic… Thank you for sharing.
best,
Sharon
P.S. (days later) I forgot to mention the most interesting aspect of this old house. It sits right next to “Heartsease”, the 1764 home of the state’s First governor. The core of this house is, actually, a 2-story log cabin from the 1790’s……..built (by Thomas Webb, the founder of the North Carolina Medical Association) as a school house for the governor’s spinster daughter, Miss Polly Burke, to teach in. 220 years later?……who buys it but a French doctor and a former teacher?………..talk about coming full-circle……. ——-david terry
I agree with Vicki…a novel waiting to happen. Your home is so obviously perfect for you. Thank you for being so gracious to continue sharing its beauty with us.
I truly believe that houses find us, that they are meant to be and that fate plays a very big hand. My husband found our house in France quite on his own. In fact I didn’t see it until we had signed the papers and there was no turning back. He was on a house hunting mission, but by the end of a long week he was all but giving up, there was simply nothing that met our requirements, everything was either too small, too remote, too far from the coast, too this too that, but nothing was right. Then on the off chance on his last day in France he visited a small local agent. Like so many others they said they had nothing suitable, but he persevered and asked to see our house even though they thought it would not be suitable as it needed a lot of work. Within 24 hours he made an offer, had it rejected and upped it to the full asking price, within 48 hours it was ours! Some things are just meant to be.
It seems to be those moments when you can’t get anywhere on one path, that another unexpected one opens up completely and everything moves so fast!
best,
Sharon
What a story! It is a world apart from american high efficiency. My admiration for your patience, persistency, ….
B.M.
Reminds me of “The piano shop on the left bank”. The French do not want to sell to just “anyone”. One has to earn the right.
Such a good story. We moved from east coast of US to the west coast(WA). We looked and looked for houses but none seemed to be a home, only a house. After 8years, and another child, we went by a house that had previously been on the market. It was my dream home and someone else was living in it! An English country cottage style in painted brick with a slate roof and fireplace in the living room and master bedroom! I called an agent, got a one time showing, and we made an offer. Devastated that my husband offered the sellers $20k less than asking, I was sure we’d lost the house. But, the owners accepted our offer and we have loved this home for 20+ years now. Some things are meant to be!
Hi Missy,
It shows what a little persistence and taking something “into one’s own hands” can do 😉
Congrats on your home!
best,
Sharon
Greetings from Colorado!
What a great story!!! I loved it.
this gives me anxiety about dealing with agents when we inherit my mother-in-law’s home in Provence!
Yet another great story Sharon. I was one of those estate agents working in a French agency but with English,Dutch,German clients and not at all like my French colleagues who were exactly as you described them.!!
One day I visited a Mas/Grange that came on the market and fell in love with it,too expensive and I was not in a good place at the time,6 years later my partner told me a friend of his was having financial problems and needed to sell his house,yes you’ve guessed it was my Mas and we have lived there now for over 17years and each day love it more!!
Timing is everything! Congrats on your home 🙂
best,
Sharon
Jan, how brilliant and wonderful for you…. I LOVE THIS BLOG, such great comments, such honesty, I’m in love with all of you…. 🙂
A lovely story and a peek into the secret life of the French people and their traditions. Thanks for sharing it.
I loved reading this tonight! We spent the day driving around the Pays d’Auge with a realtor looking at old homes. You’re fortunate to have found the perfect one, even tho it took a long time. I have a feeling our search may take as long! But your happy ending gives me hope.
The Pays d’Auge was breathtakingly gorgeous…but after a lot of discussion, we’ve decided it’s too remote. We need an area closer to Paris! From the train yesterday we spied a promising little area not far from Everux, then rereading about your cottage, I realized that’s probably not far from where you are. Do you have any realtors in the area to recommend? LOL
I am a Realtor here in the US but my mother is French, I too was very shocked when we interviewed agents to aid us in selling my mothers childhood home, an apartment, in Grenoble. The apartment sold in October which has left a hole in my heart. My dream was to somehow one day return. So now I live out my dream through your blog. I pray that God has it in the stars for me to return one day after my children are grown and to possibly live out the rest of my life there. Once again thank you for your blog
Wow! I hope I never have to buy a house in France!
the real estate agents sound horrible!
Most beautiful story. We live in Texas in a small Victorian, no real closets, but all is well because this house loves us as much as we love it. But, I would love to live in France, at least visit. I try to find French decor whenever I can.
What a fantastic story. You were brave to jump up and go through those files. I can’t even image working in that situation. The house did find it’s rightful owner for that time.
I perfectly understand you. Along my house in the Pyrenees Orientales there is a very small garden which will make my house perfect. The landlord’s house is not so close and they never use that patch of land. Despite this, he does not want to sell it to me.
A propos, there is a website where one can buy directly from the landlords, avoiding the realtors.
Looking for a house in France right now…… Can you please share name of this website?
Fiona, try pap.fr
Thanks!!
Fiona; as a ‘étranger’ buying in France I can tell you that it IS a minefield. If I can help you ‘translating’ the selling pitch, or render you aware of the many, many, many problems we weren’t aware of, you may ask me and I’ll be happy to give you any advice to make your choice a happier one than ours were to be. You see our house here in Ile de France was our THIRD house we bought (one in UK, Switzerland each before) so of course we thought we had seen it all and knew our ways – and boy how wrong we were – we were cheated in every possible and some impossible ways. If I can help you to avoid some of the problems, I’d be glad to do so.
(On a happier note; we have made our house ‘whole, healthy and happy’ in the meantime – but it will never be my favourite home because too many wounds of horrible people we dealt with along the way spoilt much of the ‘wonder’ for us. Still, it IS the most beautiful house of the three!)
It is a beautiful thing to learn the art of waiting…for in the end, waiting leads to joy!
Here in California, nothing is older that than the Missions, and they are historic sites and not for sale. Our homes are more ‘just houses’ with little age and soul. So Cal is an irrigated dessert, packed with houses,people and cars, void of large trees and now with a continuing drought, we have lost our irrigation. But we have the best weather in the World, to which millions have come to enjoy the beauty of the Pacific, the non-irrigated desserts and our mountains. I grew up by the sea in a very tiny house and that sea remains in my blood, as is the history that one finds in France. The architecture, the beauty of the hand-hewn, hand formed, hand applied lives in my soul…to imagine the designer, the builders, the artisans who labored to provide such substantial and stunningly beautiful shelter sets my heart afire. The siting, the forests and tree rows and plantings that decorate one’s homesite in rural France overwhelm me, embracing me like the most beautiful manteau, woven from spun greenery, interwoven with palest pink peonies and roses. My senses are overcome with the colors and fragrances of nature. You know I love your home, Sharon, and I think of our visit there often. Those of you who have considered her French Country Home Cottage…do it, you will experience heaven…from one who will see Sharon here in SoCal on July 1. I relive our stay in her Cottage in my mind’s eye daily.
Kismet. You did well to wait and I applaud your patience. What a splendid haven you turned it into; it must have taken a lot of time. Well done.
Love this story. I absolutely agree. As soon as you walk into a house you know it will be right for you. Interesting about the French agents, would never have thought about them being like that. vastly different to buying and looking in Australia.
Absolutely beautiful Sharon and that house was definitely meant for you
Things always work out for the best if you wait for them. I found my perfect home at just the right time. I ask for patience and wisdom every day:)
I so wish I could see you on your book tour. I love your book and would have loved to have you sign it. I live in North Carolina,but unfortunately I am caring for a very sick family member and cannot leave. Maybe someday in France. I look forward to your blog every week. It is a bright spot with a cup of coffe for me. The thoughtful messages from your followers are also a great added treat. Great blessings to you on your tour.
Thanks, Marcy ! Take good care of yourself and your family member and keep in touch.
best,
Sharon
What a story! Reminds me a bit of the film (not necessarily the book) Under The Tuscan Sun when the pigeon plops on the wannabe new owner’s head as a sign to sell! Go figure. The French are marvelous! Not easy but marvelous. I know I was raised by a French mama. Great story and your home is spectacular! Love the blog.
Yes the French are marvelous,I have lived with a Catalan for the past 30 years,never easy but always interesting.!! We live down near Perpignan,not as pretty as Normandy but I love it.
When my wife and I moved to Atlanta from Dallas we lived for the first year in a roomy three bedroom apartment. It was comfortable but we knew it was temporary. We had a two year old daughter and wanted to make certain we made an informed choice when we purchased a home. Everything looked great – in Dallas we basically lived on a prairie and had one lonely tree (that I planted and that struggled in the heat). We targeted a beautiful, established neighborhood with mature hardwood trees and a clubhouse with pool and recreational facilities located in one of the cities best school districts. Houses in the neighborhood sold by word of mouth more often than through realtor listings. Through friends at church we became acquainted with a realtor who lived in the neighborhood and had the inside track. It took another year and a half to finally make the move. We put earnest money on three separate residences in the neighborhood but, for one reason or another, none of the sales went through – one family decided to stay, one man decided against the new job and move that was the reason for listing their home, etc.. By this time our daughter was ready to enter kindergarten. A house that we had passed by on many occasions, and had had a for sale sign in the yard the entire time, seemed worth a look after all. We hadn’t given it much thought because it sat at the top of a large sloped site with a long, steep driveway – not conducive to kids on tricycles! You might guess that this is the one we ended up with. We’ve joked ever since that we didn’t buy the house, it waited until we were ready and then bought us. Twenty six years on we’re still here. Our children have grown up in this house. We now have a six month old granddaughter who will come to know it. Sometimes things do seem meant to be.
Dear Susannah…..
What a beautiful story. Thank you for it. I’ve read it, just five minutes ago, and am now replying.
For many reasons, your story (particularly the part about your red rock) reminds me of one of my favorite passages from “Out of Africa”. this is a book that begins, as you’ll know, with the simple, beautifully evocative line: “I had a farm in Africa”:
“If I know a song of Africa—I thought–of the giraffe, and the African new moon lying on her back, of the ploughs in the fields, and the sweaty faces of the coffee-pickers, does Africa know a song of me? Would the air above the plain quiver with a color that I had had on, or the children invent a game in which my name was, or the full moon throw a shadow over the gravel of the drive that was like me, or would the eagles of Ngong look out for me?”
Isak Dineson lost, of course, her beloved farm in time….but she was able to write something that beautiful thirty years later…..which is what really matters.
Having gone through a markedly painful divorce over the past year, I spend a lot of my days (I do, after all, work at home) with the dogs in the pecan grove (the house is 220 years old and the grove is just about as old)…..and I often think of that passage from Dineson.
I’ll be staying here for the rest of my life, as far as I can figure out…..but it’s unexpectedly comforting to recognize that one’s just a pilgrim, at worst (and a caretaker, at best), in a home such as the one I’ve got.
Do write to me privately, if you like; you seem like someone with whom I’d like to correspond. We seem to have a lot in common.
Sincerely,
David Terry
dterrydraw@aol.com
http://www.davidterryart.com
Suzanna,your story gave me goose bumps,I am convinced that houses have souls and as an ex estate agent here in France have had a few experiences to prove it.
I took some English clients to visit an old farmhouse ( Mas) that had been in the same family for generations, I found it almost impossible to stay inside during the visit,I felt a very strong force trying to push me out and eventually left them to wander on their own.when they had finished we sat outside in the sun where the husband explained he was a medium and that the house didn’t want new owners and it would reject everyone that tried to take it over,which it did,a different English couple bought it and after 6 months put it back on the market,there have been at least 7 owners in the past 10 years and I have been told it is now falling into ruin as no one wants to buy it!!!
Houses have souls!!!!
Jan.
WONDERFUL STORY!!!!!!!!
It was meant to BE!
Yes, thats proper,solely 5. You make $5.00 in cash,
not checks or money orders, however reql cash with your name at #5.
I’ve got to to admit that this is the least sexy or interesting thing I have ever read on this blog. But, then….I hate spam-bots……..
sincerely,
David Terry
Loved meeting you in Cashiers today!
Your “Home” story is so timely. My sister just left after a short visit and I explained how it would be VERY difficult to leave our home of 18 years. She said it was only a house and things didn’t matter. I didn’t pursue the topic as I realized she didn’t understand that our little piece of paradise was more than just a house. For the last 18 years we have raised our 5 children here. Year after year, when faced with the choice of a vacation or some wonderful addition to our home and yard, the home won out. Not only have we poured our blood, sweat, tears and money into this 2 acres in the US Midwest, the milestones and joys of life have happened here. I knew this was my home when I saw it, although I knew it needed changes, and it is still the spot that captures my heart and delights my soul.
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I want to see the inside of that exquisite home !!!!
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