Sometimes you just know. Think about the last time you trusted your gut and were right about the feeling. I bet it happens more often than not or at least I bet you have the perception it’s right more often than not.
Adam and I had looked at a LOT of farmhouses and properties before we found our current home. We looked at way-over budget ones. We looked at decaying ones. We extensively researched what it would take to purchase and move a historical home to an acreage (if anyone needs a leg up on the research, contact us). I bet we looked at 20 houses and strongly considered around five.
Farmhouse hunting started as a thrill, but morphed into, what felt like going on a bunch of causal dates. There were a lot of misfits. There were a few times, when we really had our hopes up only to be disappointed that it wasn’t going to materialize. We actually threw in the towel shortly before touring our place.
Us on the day we first visited Tailwind (not named this at the time)
And then this place happened, on a typical mid-summer day after we said NO MORE, in one of the last places we expected to look for love. About 5-6 years earlier, biking on the Prairie Farmer Trail outside of Cresco, I told Adam’s family I could never move to Cresco. My really (stupid) flimsy rationale… Cresco sounded too much like Crisco (sorry to be hatin’ on the Crisco, fans). Never say never.
What drew us in about our home? Well, pretty much everything. We feel like it’s a rare gem. We knew pretty much upon opening the front door it was for us.
The previous owners were such meticulous caretakers annually servicing the furnace, AC unit, dryer, iron curtain, lawn mower. I’ve never seen such a tidy and dust-free home. Although, we try to keep it neat and appliances in good working order, we don’t give it as much attention as the previous owners.
We valued the upgrades and the care and attention to detail. They used quality products like Bertch cabinets, cork flooring in the kitchen, fully tiled shower, upgraded windows, and resurfaced wood floors without compromising the historical integrity of the home. They kept all the original hardwood, the built-ins and the French doors.
One of the biggest perks was a a clean, dry basement. We’d looked at plenty of straight up horror movie basements. This basement has high ceilings, plenty of windows, is dry and we could’ve eaten off the floor on move-in day. We now have storage, a pain cave (treadmill, weights and a shrine to all-things running), and a root cellar. The attic is also potentially usable space with windows, spray foam insulation and part of an exposed chimney.
Photo from the 1970s of the homestead. From https://vintageaerial.com/photos/iowa
Lately, I’ve been intrigued to know the history of this home. We are only the third owners. The previous owners purchased in 2005 from the original bride and did all that extensive upgrading. We know a little about its construction. It was built in 1932, as a wedding present from the bride’s family. They were immigrants from Bohemia. A Google search for “1930s farmhouses” yielded photos of a lot of shanties. I recalled pouring over Grapes of Wrath in high school captivated by how dire and hard the Great Depression hit midwest farming communities. Farmers didn’t have a lot of money; yet here is an immigrant family that built such an elegant farmhouse.
When I was in elementary school, I became obsessed with sketching floor plans. In fact, if it hadn’t been for my pathetic math skills (and general distain for the subject), I might have considered architecture. I had piles of oddly shaped manilla scratch paper with makeshift plans for houses all with skewed proportions and the misspelled room titles. It was around the time my parents embarked on building their current house, so I guess you could say it was on the forefront of my mind. I recall multiple trips to the architect’s office staring at the oversized prints of our soon-to-be house. Then, as if by a miracle (my parents would say a drawn out, expensive miracle), those blue prints translated into an actual structure!
Naturally, I was really giddy to discover the original blue prints to this house tucked away in the attic. I’m still yearning to learn more. When we moved in, we made it a goal of reaching out to the original homeowner. Unfortunately, we didn’t have a sense of urgency and she passed away before we could get the chance to meet. I feel a connection with this woman and this family, who I’ve never even met.
Blueprints of our house, so much like the ones I poured over as a little girl.