Tales from the Granola Box

Every now and then I like to browse real estate listings for our area. I’m looking for The Property; a few acres in the country where our kids can run around, I can grow organic vegetables and raise chickens, and C can be close enough to Toronto for work. I like to dream.

Today I found it. The ultimate dream property for us.

100 acres, 20 to 30 of which is suitable for farming. The rest is all wooded, with trails running through. There’s even a stream, as if we hadn’t already strayed into nauseatingly idyllic territory. It’s closer to my family than we are now, closer to some of our best friends, yet not terribly far from where we currently are. It’s even reasonably affordable, particularly considering the amount of land it comes with.

Can’t you just hear the theme from Little House on the Prairie swelling?

It’s all so perfect that you have to know there’s a huge catch coming, right?

Yeah, and it’s a big one. No house.

Not that we’d mind building our own. We’ve had such trouble with the current one that we’d probably like the opportunity to start from scratch. But it’s not doable right now.

So I’ll sit on my dreams awhile longer, work on our five-year-plan, and trust that another property will come along when we’re ready for it.

And then? I’m going to buy a lottery ticket. ‘Cause a girl’s gotta have dreams.