The story of notre moulin
Ann Nicole at Our Suburban Cottage is hosting a “How I met my house” get together today and I thought that since this is the year of the house chez nous, it would be appropriate (and a fun distraction from the chaos) to play along. Plus, I always love to hear how people (and people and houses and blogs) came to be together. So sit down and I will tell you a little story about notre moulin and how we came to live in this little shady glen…
Il etait une fois, dh and I lived in a very nice apartment overlooking a river in a quaint northern suburb of Atlanta. It was lovely, within a short walk of our Church, a hiking trail, and a park. After three wonderful years we found out we were going to have our first child and my husband’s company was moving its manufacturing facility 25 miles away. It was time to look for a house, but it meant leaving our town and moving. I hate moving and I really was not enthusiastic about the WHERE – much further north. Dh also wanted to find a house with land. Oh, my! I knew that I would be quitting my job and imagined myself in a strange town out in the middle of nowhere surrounded by trailers with Confederate flags for curtains with a new baby. Add pregnancy hormones and it was a bit stressful.
We did our research, we called a real estate agent. We spent days in a car driving around, walking through house after house. Nothing. No sparks. It was April in Atlanta and that means dogwoods, azaleas and taxes so we took a weekend off our search. At that time dh did his mother’s taxes every year and sent them to her snail mail for her to review, sign, and submit. As luck (and providence) would have it the USPS LOST the package with her taxes so dh had to reprint a copy and resend them last minute. This meant a trip to the new office and a long wait while the ancient printer slowly spit out the huge document. It was too beautiful for us to sit inside so dh proposed a drive.
We headed west, further west than we had ever gone, in an area we had never considered in our house hunt. It was beautiful and surprisingly civilized! We turned down a small street and saw a gray Colonial down a long gravel drive nestled back in the woods behind a split rail fence. It was a float in a sea of pink, red, and white with a FOR SALE sign in front. It was exactly what we wanted. A day or two later we were able to both get off work to see it up close. It was just big enough, just within our budget, with 2 wooded acres, a huge deck, basement, a hot tub, and a creek. Love!
Le moulin had been on the market for 4 months with nary a nibble, but when our real estate agent called that morning the buyer had just received TWO offers that were about to be presented. Our agent told the selling agent to hold off an hour more. We sat at the dining room table in le moulin (which the seller actually left for us) and wrote up our offer. We crossed our fingers that it would beat out the competition – and it did! One month later we moved into le moulin, our little piece of Heaven….
That was fourteen years, three kids, one dog, a mini-van, and a pick-up truck ago this month. Guess what, the original package with the taxes arrived at dh’s mother’s house safe and sound the Monday after we found our moulin. We are convinced that God wanted us to live here because If those taxes hadn’t gone missing we would NEVER have found this house. We love it in all its imperfections. Like everything in life, it was a gift. A gift we treasure everyday because as John Muir said,
“Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in where nature may heal and cheer and give strength to the body and soul.”