David hates to look at houses or property, so finding the right place was always left up to me. This arrangement has suited me, however, because I know what I want. The one time David went ahead and bought something I was against I hated it. (He only did it because we had to find some place to live when he was transferred and the town had very few properties for sale.) When I do the searching and finally find something he'll usually agree unless I'm way out of line, and so far I haven't been way out of line. Still, the process can take me a long time.
I'd looked for over a year for the kind of property I wanted. What the heck, we were under no pressure to move. I'd seen some lovely properties--we were looking for bare land so I could have a house built that I designed--but there always seemed to be something wrong with it. It was either too close to neighbors, too expensive, too far away or too small. Then, finally, on the one day David agreed to come along with me, we found the perfect property.
It was almost three acres on the west side of the island, on a bluff overlooking the water, another island and the Olympic Mountains, which even in summer, were topped with snow. Most of the property was heavily wooded, but near the bluff it had been logged to make room for a small manufactured home that served as a weekend house for some city dwellers. We would get the afternoon sun and be able to watch sunsets. It had just come on the market and we grabbed it.
We had the home torn down, found a building contractor and a home designer and, long story short, here we are. The building of the house, however, was a tale in itself, because our general contractor was a seventy year old woman.
When I was driving around the island one day--I would go out occasionally just to sit and look out at the water--I drove by a small, two story cottage style house set back on wooded acreage, surrounded by a split rail fence. It was adorable, so I rang the doorbell and asked the owner who had built it. That's how we found Sarah.
