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HT's avatar

Back in Sept 2020, in the throes of canceling our big wedding celebration and planning to do a 6-person micro ceremony instead, we saw a listing for a perfect little home across the river from us in a town about 45 minutes north of NYC. At the time, there was a huge rush to buy homes upstate, what with the pandemic and WFH and all that. We didn't really have our shit together when we made an appointment to see the place -- it was just on a whim, just to see! -- and fell in love with it immediately. Then discovered that there were a ton of offers already, almost all of them from people looking to get a second home, some of them willing to pay cash (!!!), and that in a few hours the bids would close. So we just closed our eyes and went for it, made a bid -- and the owners accepted our offer, even though it wasn't the highest, and even though we had only scrambled that afternoon to get pre-approved for a mortgage. The owners hadn't lived in this house for more than 6 years, but they had taken such good care of it, created a wonderfully fertile vegetable garden out back, planted and nurtured some rhodies to life out front. The real estate agent told them that of everyone who saw the place, we were the only ones who, she could tell, actually loved it, saw the 'home'-ness in it -- and that was what pushed the owners to choose us. So now, two years later, as I watch my second season of tomato plants take in the sun every day from their perfect spot in the garden, I say my thanks to our predecessors, who made this joy and everyday wonder possible.

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Jennifer's avatar

So very true. I’m 65 and have rented and moved so many times; but each new home I’ve planted and restored barren ground. It never mattered that it doesn’t “belong” to me. I knew that planting indigenous perennial’s belongs to everyone.

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