It took 8 years to find our land!

Have you ever held a hope for years, waiting through seasons of change for it to be fulfilled?

Moving to land. That was our dream.

We didn’t know where and we didn’t know when, but we were determined to escape the restrictions of suburbia and feel free!

Neither Sam nor I had lived on large properties growing up, but for me, my homeland of England held precious memories of holidays at farms and in the Yorkshire Dales.

When our children were younger, we visited and then returned time and time again, to a farmstay about an hour and a half from our home. We would pack up the car, hook up the trailer and drive through the city and out the other side until the familiar hills of ‘Ryelands‘ were in sight.

We only ever stayed for a few days, but that was enough to make us dream. The cottage we stayed in was tiny, but watching the children run down the hills and ride their bikes for hours, making jumps and racing each other to the end of the driveway made our hearts sing.

All too soon, we’d reluctantly pack our bags, say our goodbyes and promise to ‘come back next year’ as we drove home through the traffic lights and buildings, telling one another that one day we’d move to the country and never leave.

As the years rolled on and our children grew, our search became more earnest. Every weekend we would scroll the real estate pages for anywhere with a few acres and a house we could fit in. We dragged the children to countless open inspections, timing baby naps perfectly and rushing off after church to make sure we had a chance to beat the closing time. But nothing felt right. The fatigue and disappointment were real.

Sometimes it felt easier to just give up and embrace the place it seemed we were destined to stay in. After all, there wasn’t anything wrong with it… and yet there was a constant, nagging thought that we only have one life to live. And we both wanted more.

During the pandemic, house prices soared and the reality of ever leaving our 1100 sqm block felt unachievable. So we bought a caravan instead to make road trips more enjoyable. Our meal time conversations so often revolved around what our farm would look like, and car drives took on a new importance as family members took it in turns to point out features of their ideal property.

By 2022 we felt stuck. Unsure if we would ever actually move and with a more jaded outlook, we put in offers at the top end of our budget for houses we hardly even liked. It’s funny how desperation makes you do things you’d never dream of in your right mind.

But something was shifting… almost all the houses we were drawn to were within the same 10km radius. After missing out on 3 properties in a year, all in the same area and all of which went for well over the asking price, the unexpected happened.

On a Tuesday afternoon, with some other very exciting news in my mind, I heard Sam call out from downstairs: ‘The agent got back to me and it’s within our budget!’ I dashed to the kitchen and watched as my excited husband scrolled through image after image of land, animals, stunning views, hills and a little yellow cottage with a huge pond.

I remember saying ‘Just put in an offer! We’ll drive past tomorrow!’ and thus began one of the most hectic weeks of our lives.

We did drive past the house the next day, with a van full of hopeful children and a tiny new baby growing in my tummy. The views gave us goosebumps, as did the biting wind, and by the time we had got home we’d already agreed to do our best to buy the property.

That weekend’s open inspection was a blur of children pulling our arms to show us pigs and fancy chickens and frenzied, whispered conversations as we tried to overhear what other interested buyers were saying. The house was half the size of our current home and needed lots of updating, but the bedrooms were big enough and after years of staying at Ryelands, we all knew we could give a smaller house a shot.

With letters to the owner sent, we submitted our offer and within hours were told that the lady had wanted ‘the family with the van’ (what else would we be driving?!) to buy it. The shock was almost palpable… and then the doubts began.

Could we cope in such a tiny house?

Was it too far away from all our regular commitments?

Did we really WANT to move?

Were we ready to leave our home of 13 years?

What would we do with 47 acres of scrub?!

It seemed that the closer we were to reaching the goal we had longed for, the more confused we felt.

While camping with friends in the following few days, we made the necessary phone calls to the bank, our estate agent, and family, all while juggling the fresh news of our littlest baby’s arrival. Sam’s genuine uncertainties about the whole move delayed our final decision. But, in the end, even that benefitted us, as the vendor accepted our subsequent, much lower offer, giving us extra money to make some changes straight away. It was done.

Selling our house was just as much of a whirlwind. Cleaning, painting, sorting junk and decluttering became the activity that filled every spare hour. We went to market during a weekend of rainstorms that flooded our garage and caused our laundry ceiling to sag and leak under the weight of water from overflowing gutters.

Against all odds, we were presented with two cash offers and accepted the lower one, choosing to pass our beloved home onto another family with young children. What an answer to prayer!

And so, on a scorching 38 degree summer day, our convoy arrived at the farm with a bundle of excited children, a feisty cat and a picnic lunch. The real adventure had begun.

Your dream may not be like ours. But I bet you have one. A longing to do something differently or to take the plunge and just change direction. For us, it has been more than worth it. It’s been harder than we expected, but so much more rewarding… even if it took 8 years.