Here’s the deal
One reason we like this area in Vermont is because it’s rural, a place where country mice flourish. Life here is much like that line in the Cheers theme song, “You want to go where everybody knows your name.” Those who warned us about rural life summarized it differently, “Everyone is all up in your stuff.”
We have visited Vermont every summer for a decade or so; that doesn’t make us a household name in these parts, but we do have some friends here. The town’s office staff, both of them, know us mostly because we typically arrive on family coattails, locals they’ve known for many years. During one such visit we inquire about the place, “you know, the one with the green shutters.”
“Who owns that property? I’ve heard it’s a church. Is that true? The lawn is always mowed. Why would anyone let a place like that stay closed up for so long?”
One of the staff artfully dodges the questions, replying instead that they get more questions about that property than any other in town. The other staff member tells us it’s coming up for sale, that the listing broker came in the other day and told them to have anyone inquiring about it to give him a call. We contact a local real estate agent right away.
By the time the property is listed for sale, we have returned to Texas. Our agent patiently explains that it takes a long time to sell property in this part of Vermont, more time for land. We’re advised to wait until spring — “no one buys land in the fall because there’s nothing you can do with it.” We suggest he inquire with the listing broker and we learn the seller is actively reviewing offers (plural!).
Negotiating and closing
The offer process is a long story that boils down to what matters most to many sellers trying to decide between multiple offers: what are the buyers’ intentions, why should we pick you? Or as they put it to us, “What would a couple from Texas do with a property way up here?” Our response must have been better than others’ because we soon receive a signed contract.
“What would a couple from Texas do with a property way up here?”
We fly in for the closing on a cold, sunny day in January. The seller, a retired minister from Massachusetts, sends someone to represent his interests. Our closing is held in a gorgeous 200-year-old building with lovely, dark wood detail. The window in that office looks out on the town green, which is actually white with snow and glistening in the sunlight, evergreens and a few red bows leftover from Christmas still hanging on the heavy wood doors.
The seller
That night we call the seller to thank him. He seems happy to hear from us and reveals why the property languished for so many decades. Around the time he inherited the property from a church parishioner, his wife was diagnosed with leukemia. They had hoped she would get better, then she could no longer travel, and ultimately she lost her battle and passed away. He held tightly to his happy memories of the little house, but couldn’t bear to return without his beloved wife.
“Did you find the hand-dug spring well?” he asks.
“Did you see the old car? Someone tried to use it to dam up that stream.”
“Did you see the barn hole? There may even be more than one…”
No one told us the property came with a sermon.
We explain it’s all very new to us and with such a thick blanket of snow covering everything, we’ve not explored much. But we’re excited to learn more about the property and tell him so. His voice changes, becomes softer as he recalls the times they gathered by the fire beneath “more stars than you have ever seen” and listened to the night sounds of owls and bears. His voice cracked as he offered his parting words…
“I hope you love and hug that place as much as we did.”
We are absolutely convinced that we should be here. But, no one told us the property came with a sermon.
