The best way to welcome you to Toddville is to recreate our welcoming. Sit back and enjoy the ride.
Oh, and you might want to buckle up.
Keith and I found the house back last June. Eight acres priced so cheap, we expected to see a rundown shack, but we had to check it out because the land looked so enticing. (We’re avid gardeners.)
We took a Sunday drive knowing we’d enjoy the day, but not holding out for a promising house. We had been disappointed more than I can count since autumn over offers we could afford, but sounded too good to be true. We expected to fall in love with the area, but turn it down because we couldn’t afford to fix the house up to a livable condition.
Once we exited the highway to find the house, we drove thirty miles through breath-taking woods and tidal marshes on a winding, country road barely two lanes wide. All the way down, the road literally ran less than a foot above the water. Most places through the marshes, the road was only inches above the water mark.
I grew up on the Eastern Shore, but never did I know Maryland had this rugged remoteness to offer. Keith forgot he was in Maryland. The man who loves the mountains of Pennsylvania stared in awe at the sea of grass and the abundant wildlife.
We got our hopes up for a livable house because we knew this is where we wanted to be – on a lot of land and away from people.
To our surprise, the house wasn’t only livable, but looked to be practically new. On Monday, we scheduled a showing and knew we were going to take this newly remodeled 1920 farmhouse.
All summer, we drove down to explore the area and hoped we would get approved for the financing so we could move in. We were, however, concerned about flooding. With the water practically at road level, we thought for sure the place must flood.
Fortunately, we had a week of heavy rains – over a foot of it. If the house flooded, this would be the storm to do it. Heck, people in the city who never worried about flooding were getting flooded. Surely, the house we wanted to buy had to be under water.
We drove down to check it out, not even expecting to get to it because the roads would be flooded out. As we wound our way through the marshes, the water was higher than we had ever seen it, but wasn’t anywhere near flooding the road out. When we got to the house, there was one little puddle in the front yard and that was it. No flooding anywhere.
We were excited, but still had to ask: “Did the house ever flood?”
The owners were forthright. “On bad storms,” they said, “the tide might spill a little bit into the front yard, but the house will stay dry. It only flooded during Isabel. And since we added several truckloads of dirt to the front yard, you probably won’t even have the tides coming up into the yard much anymore.”
Isabel flooded everybody. People who had lived fifty years in their house and never came close to flooding had Isabel filling their living rooms. So a little water might come into our yard once in awhile. Big deal.
We proceeded with the paperwork and on Labor Day weekend, we moved in.
Coming next post…move in day and tropical storm Ernesto’s welcoming.
© 2006
Mark Darien
All rights reserved
Please include this copyright notice if you share this article
Oh, and you might want to buckle up.
Keith and I found the house back last June. Eight acres priced so cheap, we expected to see a rundown shack, but we had to check it out because the land looked so enticing. (We’re avid gardeners.)
We took a Sunday drive knowing we’d enjoy the day, but not holding out for a promising house. We had been disappointed more than I can count since autumn over offers we could afford, but sounded too good to be true. We expected to fall in love with the area, but turn it down because we couldn’t afford to fix the house up to a livable condition.
Once we exited the highway to find the house, we drove thirty miles through breath-taking woods and tidal marshes on a winding, country road barely two lanes wide. All the way down, the road literally ran less than a foot above the water. Most places through the marshes, the road was only inches above the water mark.
I grew up on the Eastern Shore, but never did I know Maryland had this rugged remoteness to offer. Keith forgot he was in Maryland. The man who loves the mountains of Pennsylvania stared in awe at the sea of grass and the abundant wildlife.
We got our hopes up for a livable house because we knew this is where we wanted to be – on a lot of land and away from people.
To our surprise, the house wasn’t only livable, but looked to be practically new. On Monday, we scheduled a showing and knew we were going to take this newly remodeled 1920 farmhouse.All summer, we drove down to explore the area and hoped we would get approved for the financing so we could move in. We were, however, concerned about flooding. With the water practically at road level, we thought for sure the place must flood.
Fortunately, we had a week of heavy rains – over a foot of it. If the house flooded, this would be the storm to do it. Heck, people in the city who never worried about flooding were getting flooded. Surely, the house we wanted to buy had to be under water.
We drove down to check it out, not even expecting to get to it because the roads would be flooded out. As we wound our way through the marshes, the water was higher than we had ever seen it, but wasn’t anywhere near flooding the road out. When we got to the house, there was one little puddle in the front yard and that was it. No flooding anywhere.
We were excited, but still had to ask: “Did the house ever flood?”
The owners were forthright. “On bad storms,” they said, “the tide might spill a little bit into the front yard, but the house will stay dry. It only flooded during Isabel. And since we added several truckloads of dirt to the front yard, you probably won’t even have the tides coming up into the yard much anymore.”
Isabel flooded everybody. People who had lived fifty years in their house and never came close to flooding had Isabel filling their living rooms. So a little water might come into our yard once in awhile. Big deal.
We proceeded with the paperwork and on Labor Day weekend, we moved in.
Coming next post…move in day and tropical storm Ernesto’s welcoming.
© 2006
Mark Darien
All rights reserved
Please include this copyright notice if you share this article
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