I will hum a few bars and then you slide right in to the music stream as the mood strikes.
“I’ll light the fire, you place the flowers in the vase that you bought today.” Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young penned lots of intense and soothing at the same time harmonies. That wrap around the mirrors in the aisles of the mind. Where past memories lay waiting.
Playing low in the background of earlier times in your life.
Needing to be pushed, relived like selections on a juke box. I felt that song playing about love and contentment in the homestead yesterday. In a house in Westfield Maine. That was built just the way two people in love envisioned it.
A culmination of all the features to date. That each enjoyed in their separate list of houses called home up until they met.
Back when they were not traveling the same paths and rabbit trails. Logging frequent flyer miles before holding hands started.
And households combined to add what was missing. That each longed for in the log home in Maine constructed just so. Attention to the missing details both desired weaved into the construction fabric. The place with the space way way more than just oriented to the sun at the right degree angle. So the front entry sun room solarium works overtime. Doubling as a greenhouse and passive solar collector too. Doing its part and contributing to the housing experience.
Holding, to carry it’s own weight in the day to day comfortable, unassuming open design layout. That fits the pair that celebrate their life within like wearing a pair of glass slippers. A glove fit for them both outside too. Roaming, gardening, puttering around the surroundings. Sharing, basking in the rural setting. With the other always on tap. To enjoy it all with any of the four seasons.
Because of the 125 acres of Maine land space that wraps around, creates, preserves this special location.
Side road quiet, on a hill of gently sloping and rolling terrain. With both open and mixed wooded sections managed. A Maine land medley buffet.
And talk about wildlife. Especially birds. The feeder like an aviary airport of touch and go landings. For the hit and run. Of the drive thru slot at the bottom of the very tall glass tube. Filled to the brim. With a never ending exotic, intoxicating combination of much appreciated seeds to snack on all winter long.
While the long low angled bright but diminished sunlight arched overhead. Smack dab parked in the middle of a winter pale blue hue sky.
The feeder one channel to watch. For whoever’s turn to do the dishes. To marvel at the escapades. The dare devil soloing doing figure eights outside. While lucky enough to be inside. For the “you wash, I will wipe” pair tandem exercise. Linked as a Jack and Jill. To enjoy the impromptu stage show unfolding the other side of the insulated high performance glass together.
The floors are easy. Low maintenance, polished honey rich oak. Tile in the over sized bathroom the way they all should be proportioned. Not sardine cramped. The main heat source hardwood varieties. Gleaned and thinned from timber forest stands just so. From the wooded sections along the higher ridges.
Rising above the small gurgling, babbling stream. That has a mind of it’s own. Mendering in a zig zag across the large property in Central Aroostook County.
Inside this designed for simple living. Not to come off museum stiff or stifled pretentious.
No one out to impress. But it is hard to not be envious. Of the private residence built with sticks and bricks but mortared with love and kindness. Two old souls that thoroughly enjoy the dwelling and all this land acreage in the northern Maine woods.
Inside large hearty slabs of thick planking security. For the treads on the open stairway to the second floor. This modified, not a kit carbon copy Maine log home loaded with spaces that reflect the interests of the owners. Black and white wall hangings. Sliced into, one of a old Willys jeep taken up close and personal. All representing story opportunity conversation sparks for another day.
Sunshine drenched areas to inspire writing, creating short stories, novel sequels.
Bay windows to welcome the light of day and nourish plants. No neighbors to spoil the view. The wife industriously painting, gluing a table scale castle using odds and ends. Adorned with cobalt blue painted bottle caps, other household reusables. For a grandchild, a labor of love on the converted kitchen examination table. But when we arrived. Hopping up. Pouring fresh brewed black hot coffee from the french press. Offering me a rocking chair. That she reorients to collect the approach of the sun dialed in behind me for just this precise moment in time.
Another chair repositioned beside it in cozy fashion. To warm us best in front. After coming in from the brisk crisp fresh air. To plop center to the fire waves of positive ions. Radiating from the kitchen wood cook stove. The escort for my mate and I to sit a spell. To warm our bones. As the fluffy calico cat tagged Pestilence and hard of hearing took turns.
Slowly tag teaming the pair of us because not used to all that much company. This was a special occasion for her too. Scoring several scratches behind each ear. Garnering a little extra TLC attention.
While the pair adjusted to the do drop in. When the call from the owner’s daughter with long hair of yellow announced we had time for an unscheduled visit if they did.
The best kind where you pick up where you left off in the dialogue. From the last hand spun installment.
To sample a delicious, savory meal prepared with home grown food organically produced in Maine. No sprays. Raised with love, stored with pride. And the foodstuffs drawn from the root cellar slowly over the quiet of a Maine winter in the middle of January.
The squash that was sweeter because of just recently suffered frost bite.
Explained the man of the house wearing the apron for the lunch served effortlessly this day. It rounded out the home made meal so completely.
A window in it’s storage area it was shared, left open a little too wide. So for the next few meal sessions, squash would be performing regularly.
Comfortable. Tension free. Set back from the road. Bursting with love and saturated with an easy atmosphere of just gosh darn all over peaceful. The home in Maine that is not cookie cutter common but one of a kind because of the care takers that cherish it. The structure that reflects the home builder’s personalities and lifestyle interests. Providing the cornerstone missing piece in the Maine country setting puzzle. That the pair of peas in the pod set out to create as always a work in progress.
And adapted so well for the “hello, anyone home?” Pull up a chair, sit a spell and let’s talk. Exchange how have you been, what jaunt are you on today and a warm hug of introduction. Another to see you off until the next chance to catch up, to connect in person.
I’m Maine REALTOR Andrew Mooers, ME Broker
207.532.6573
info@mooersrealty.com