Welcome to Wise Road

Last week my husband and I signed innumerable documents and became the owners of the dilapidated farmhouse located on a hill above Wise Road. Today I begin a blog in honor of this humble rural domicile, hoping to record our renovation journey, as we search for the good life far from the madding crowd.  

As I set up the blog I struggled to choose an appropriate title. My first impulse was to call it “Wise Road,” for “Wise” is the road on which the farmhouse is to be found. However, as time went by I began to question the wisdom (ha) of this title. Is it…wise…I asked myself, to choose this appellation, with all the word “wise” suggests and implies? Won’t this title perhaps jinx the venture at the outset? Considering our project, could the name “Wise Road” begin to sound ironic? Sarcastic? For many reasons, I mused, it might be more accurate to call the blog “The Folly.” A folly, if you recall, is a small, charming structure that serves no practical purpose. For though our farmhouse may or may not be “charming” at this date and time, it is most certainly small (900 square feet), and its utility is up for debate.

And here we come to the second meaning of the word “folly.” For folly is, of course, foolishness. Folly is in fact *not* a wise road. And there have been many days (and will, I’m sure, be many more) when I have doubted the wisdom of our journey down Wise Road. Any time one undertakes the renovation of a neglected property coming up on its 150^th birthday there is, I think you will agree, at least an element of uncertainty. As you poke through the rooms, in the cellar, as the inspections go down, visions of dollar signs, of weepings and gnashings of teeth, begin to flit before your eyes. Maybe, you think, we should just tear the thing down and build something bright shiny and new. Maybe we should get a trailer. Or a tent. Maybe this was a horrible idea. But, there is much to say on this subject.  I will muse further on “folly” (in general and ours in particular) at a later date. For today, the deed is done, the dice is thrown.

But first, in our defense: There was most certainly an element of whimsy (if not folly) in our decision to purchase a property in the country. But at least, I will maintain, that it is a venerable and longstanding whim, held by both members of the marital partnership. Since the advent of our romance (some 14 years ago) my husband and I have been in perfect agreement regarding the necessity of, someday, possessing a home in the country. Many things have changed since those early days, namely religious persuasion, intellectual conviction, place of residence, marital status, employment status, existence of children, etc. but this one intention has remained firm, the conviction even growing as the other elements developed. The “place in the country” has been a permanent character in all our diverse plots.

So when my husband opened an office in a small town an hour outside the metropolis where we reside, the possibility of realizing our rural reverie suddenly sounded…practical? Prudent? Well, prudent is going too far perhaps. But possible, with at least an element of practicality. If we bought land within spitting distance of said small town we could spend 2-3 days per week there, thus reducing my husband’s inhumane 1 hour+ commute on those days.

So we began searching, visiting farms with old houses abandoned on the premises. We mourned as one “perfect” property was purchased out from under our feet. And when another viable option became available we leapt feet first into the project, making an offer after only one cursory viewing. So much for prudence, right?

So welcome to our blog. Whether it will lead us down a “wise road,” or merely in the way of folly I do not know. Perhaps we will find out. Perhaps we will even find that there is wisdom in folly?