43 acres.

We were looking for 3 to 5 acres. Just enough property to plant a large garden, eventually have a greenhouse, possibly an outbuilding or two, and room enough for some goats or sheep, or some other four-legged animals. A few chickens, certainly, but they don’t take up much space.

But after looking at this property — returning to it, walking it a half dozen times — Paula and I continued to fall in love with it. There’s pasture, and deep ravines, and a high hill at the back of the property. The land has diversity to it, some real character.

And it’s 43 acres. Just 38 more than we were looking for. And yet I’ve warmed up to the idea/the need to maintain this property, warmed up to the idea of walking it over the years, watching it grow and change.

Just a few more weeks, and we’ll be able to move onto the land, set up sleeping quarters in the garage, and start dismantling the house, tearing out walls and ceilings, opening up the attic space, and seeing exactly what kind of messy adventure we’ve gotten ourselves into.

And we’ll be planting a new garden there, too. It’s the time outside, the space outside, that we’ve been desiring most, and this land will certainly give us space to roam. We — the two of us, Paula and I — have already talked about accidentally “losing each other” on this land. And after working on the house for days and weeks on end this summer, “losing each other” might be exactly what we will need from time to time.