The Broadwater Farm is Born

My GPS leads me down a narrow road and I find myself worried this might be some kind of glitch.  In moments, the trees drop away and a simple, sturdy fence surrounding a green pasture appears.  A small painted red barn rests at the base of a slight decline centered at the back of the field with three simple structures on wheels near the driveway.  

“This looks like the photos from the Facebook post.” I think almost audibly.    

I turn through the farm gate and drive down the long stone lane.  On the right, chickens free-range in the field, pecking and scratching unaffected by the sound of my intrusion.  My car tires crunch the stones until stopping at the last lamppost.  I sit for a moment taking in the beauty of the landscape and the classic farmhouse sitting at the end of the walk.  My realtor, Melinda, emerges from her white SUV with her clipboard and walks from the other end of the drive.  She reached out to me on Thursday and asked me to drive from Charleston to see this farm posted on Facebook this past week.  These owners were bombarded with nearly 300 inquiries from faraway places such as Idaho and Canada.  Melinda has looked for about a month and this is the most turnkey of any of the properties to date.   In an effort to get more for our money, we always include some sweat equity.   But we are feeling our age as we come to the end of our cottage renovation.  I open my door and wonder what competition might be waiting if we decide to offer on this one.  Is the price inflated?  Could we even think of trying?     

Getting out of my car, I hear my son’s truck halfway down the lane with a cloud of dust following.  The owner is coming down the porch steps to the walkway coming toward the growing group.  To my left several garden boxes are brimming with strawberries, wispy asparagus shoots and raspberry vines filled with pink fruit.  To the right, a natural forest drops down to a large pond and dock.  Running water could be heard in the distance, from what I can see it’s a type of spillway next to a grassy dam.  

As I observed the owner’s movement,  the sun reflected off the blue river stone pea gravel.  She stands still on a Honeybee stepping stone at the opening of the walkway.  Before I start toward her to be introduced, Ethan sidetracks me with a tight hug.  He’s taken the afternoon off work to do this showing with me.  His daddy couldn’t make it, so his younger mini-me is sent to observe the condition of the house and grounds.  What he’s going to be looking at  is not what interests me.  

Ethan’s emotion is in his eyes as he whispers to me, “Mom, I finished your book last night.”

I pull back to look at him, “You did!  What did you think?”

“It’s not like I didn’t know most of the story, but seeing it in a complete book.  And knowing every word is true.  I am almost done with it. ”  Ethan, a local young engineer, is dressed in a nice button down with khakis.  A strong, slender build much like his father at this age, his emotional sentiments are all me.  He is so intent on telling me, he doesn’t sense we had an audience.  

“Ethan, you don’t know how much this means to me.  So glad you are here to look at this amazing farm today. ”  I released the hug and moved toward the homeowner and Melinda witnessing our exchange.   I stick out my hand to the woman at the end of the walk dressed in a sweatshirt and denims.  

“Denise Broadwater.   Thanks for letting us view your farm.  Truly beautiful.”

Kerry's eyes widened.  “My, my this is a special family moment and to see this young man appreciate his mother.” 

Melinda, who’s known me for several years, smiled.  “I told you this is a special family and you are getting to see it firsthand.”

“This is Ethan, our middle son,”  I grabbed his forearm, “My debut book released a few weeks ago on our cottage renovation and he’s reading it.”

In a quick movement, I reach into the back seat of my sedan and pull a book from the box.  I dig for a pen in my purse, “What is your husband’s name?”

“Cliff.”  

I swirled the note and signature and handed the book to her.  

“Really?  An author-signed copy may be a first for me.”  She looks intently at the cover.  

“Be warned, you may learn more about us than you care to know.”  I say with a nervous chuckle.  She turns to show us into the house.  Melinda told me before I arrived Kerry had a dream of keeping this a working farm instead of adding to the surrounding suburban sprawl evident on the drive here.  The rest of the morning starts a hope in me that we could own such a place.   I know if our talks hit a roadblock, there are many waiting buyers waiting in the wings.

This past month, we’ve been putting finishing touches on the cottage because all the major projects are done.  The last brick has gone into the patio and it is ready for outdoor seating.  Until this property, the fixer uppers we are finding are exhausting me.  Well into our 50’s, managing a farm is still a great deal to consider, let alone renovating a house, erecting a barn and fencing the property.  

******

Layla, our inherited cat that could not adjust to her new farm home after the former owners moved, is extended next to my leg on our outdoor sofa.  The porch is our favorite spot.  Every morning and evening we find our way here, listening to the sound of water cascading throughout the spillway.  Our Texas Longhorn ladies and two newly born calves feed in the upper field and pullets scratch in the hen aviary too young to lay eggs, but growing each day.  As I recall our first moments here I look back on Ethan’s special heart, his love for his mom and dad that showed in an emotional embrace, my book arriving days prior to that moment in time, and a driven realtor motivated enough to respond to a Facebook post.  All these parts coming together in a special moment that changed our lives forever in what will be The Broadwater Farm.