I had my eye on a log cabin years ago near where I live. It was in rough condition, because it was the oldest log cabin here in my county. Everything about it was original, the chinking, the way the wood was rounded, the variance of the floors, oh, I loved it. Loved it. It sat on a wonderful 2 acres of land, and the barn was grandfathered in, and the wood was lovely. Another outside structure, to me was of even greater interest. And, anyone who knows me, knows why. Hemingway did some of his work from it.
I could envision a beauty of it that my husband couldn't see. He thought we would look like the Clampetts and he was more of a contemporary person, whereas, I value and love the old. I even brought in my relative, ( one i like) who is a huge contractor, and he checked out the foundation and all, giving it a thumps up, letting me know, what would need fixed, like the heating, and, giving me a cost estimate.
The downstairs was beautiful.
The owner inherited it and showed me the data on it all. How, one her great grandmothers was first woman sheriff in this county, and it was hers. I sat for hours with this woman reading and looking over all the documented history. She was a librarian. One could had called this woman eccentric, but, I found her very likeable. She had a baby grand piano she was willing to leave along, with... and, I lost my breath when she said this, " all my books." She had a wonderful library. Sure, they were stacked everywhere but, that didn't matter to me.
I went numb.
Sure, both inside and outside needed work. No doubt about that. But, she only wanted 76,000 back then, about 20 years, and it was affordable, if not to me, cheap.
I would ride past that house and in time, someone bought it and gutted it. They didn't realize the value in the wood of the barn for that laid in a chopped up pile of debris, and, where Hemmingway worked, is only left now, in my mind's eye.
What a loss.