Those who know me, know that I love antiques. There’s just something about worn furniture, chipped paint, a rusty patina or wood conditioned by hands, use & time that cuts to the very heart of me.

One week ago my husband & I officially purchased our most expensive & largest antique yet. It’s a 94 year old farmhouse.

Above is the smokehouse/root cellar. (It will be our potting shed & gardening center.) It’s full of treasures. Many of which I can’t see from the doorway. I can’t wait to start sorting through that charming little addition. I can so easily imagine a sink underneath the window, perfect for washing veggies & fruits from the garden before they’re brought through the door.

The barn came with the property & we own 2 acres behind it, which meet the Licking River. Fishing from my own backyard? That’s my idea of heaven.

We’re excited! We’ve ripped up carpet in a few rooms & have painted walls in much of the house. Some work will just have to wait until we’re actually in the home. And bigger projects will definitely have to wait until we can afford them.

Although we’re tired, we don’t mind the work. Every stroke of the broom or paint brush, every cobweb that’s knocked down, every ounce of sweat we’ve put into this house this week, is improving our home. And it’s nice to be able to call it Our Home. I know that we’ll love this house. And I think this house will love us as well.