After just one look, we were smitten with the Victorian Farmhouse. Now, don’t get me wrong, we saw a lot of beauty, but we also saw a LOT of work that needed to be done. But Trey and I both have some construction experience under our belts and we were eager to get our hands a little dirty. However, even though the house had been on the market for over half the year, it took several weeks of negotiation and a few sleepless nights before we finally signed the contract to purchase our new dream home.
After signing the papers, we were granted access to the house to do some cleaning before we moved in. I spent about two weeks at the house, clearing out the cobwebs and scrubbing the cabinets. I remember walking in by myself for the first time and just wanting to soak in the space. It felt like such an honor to step into this piece of history, to insert our story into the story of this old house. I walked the rooms, touching the walls, marveling at the design, taking note of the not-so-level floors, redecorating as I went from room to room. I ate a picnic lunch on the floor of the den and felt all the pride of a fresh-out-of-college student in their first apartment. It didn’t matter that I was sitting on the floor, or that I was eating a peanut butter sandwich, it mattered that this space was going to be ours, and I loved it.
During those weeks I got to learn a little bit about the man who had lived in the house before us. The current owner never lived there, but had inherited the house from his uncle, Cagey. Cagey loved coffee (as evidence by the spills along counters and walls). He had a favorite chair and he spent a lot of time in it – you could tell by the mark the chair left on the wall. Cagey and his wife had purchased the house back in the seventies and apparently redecorated then, but not since. The floors were all carpeted (even the bathroom), there was mint green tile along with a matching Cinderella tub and toilet in the hall bathroom, there was lots of wallpaper. While I absolutely fell in love with the muted floral wallpaper in the foyer, the wallpaper in the bathrooms felt more dated than vintage. During their time in the house, Cagey built his wife an en suite for the master which featured a large garden tub, but no shower. They also (I assume) built the outbuilding as a salon, complete with tanning bed room.
Tim, Cagey’s nephew and the owner from whom we were purchasing the house, told me we were welcome to keep any of the furniture or artwork that was left in the home. While we passed on the couch and chairs, we did accept a beautiful old bedroom suit, a couple tuffets (think stool/ottoman), and a painting of the house that was done in the mid 80s that proves that at one point in time, the house was blue. It makes me smile.
After meeting one of our new neighbors, we learned that our house was one of three built by William Dixon Fowler, a Civil War orderly sergeant who retired to Glenn Springs. He built one home for himself (the William Dixon Fowler House is listed on the National Register of Historic Places) and two others (ours included) as family homes for his grown children. We also learned that despite being advertised as a Victorian Farmhouse, it was really Queen Anne style architecture. But we had already gotten used to calling it the Victorian Farmhouse so please forgive that discrepancy.
I enjoyed getting to know the house slowly this way, through stories told by Cagey’s nephew and through the décor of the house. By the time we closed on the house on September 10th, I felt like we were already old friends.
But even weeks of cleaning couldn’t remove years of dust that had accumulated since Cagey’s death. What I thought were heavy drapes in each room were really just cotton fabric weighed down with dust. Once the curtains were removed, it was like the whole house took a deep breath. And now that she could breathe, it was time to get to work.
