Passing Inspection

I spent a morning this week touring the farm house with the building inspector. I was expecting to uncover a few skeletons in the closet - or the basement. The house is 112 years old and the previous owner, Ted, the person responsible for the majority of the upgrades, is, to say the least, eccentric. On our first visit to the house, Ted assured us that all of the wiring and plumbing met or exceeded code, that the foundation was sound and the well was in perfect order. He warned us that the barn was past salvaging - it predates the house - and we should consider the expense of removing it when calculating the cost of the property. But, he added, the crows and the skunks would be included in the offer.

Crows and skunks? It seems the crows are used to being fed at the back door and he told us they will gather and squawk until their dinner is served. The skunks like to sun themselves in the driveway. They're quite used to people and pets and won't spray but are useful for deterring unwanted visitors.

Ted then told us about his wife - 6'2" and 250 lbs., she eats so much that there are 2 ovens and 2 fridges in the kitchen. We asked where she was and he said she was at church praying to lose weight. On our next visit, he made no mention of his wife and proposed marriage to our real estate agent. The tall tales grew at an alarming rate. We left unsure what to believe. In my worst moments, I concluded the renovations were a figment of his imagination but the skunks are probably real.

The building inspector confirmed that, at least as far as the house is concerned, Ted's word is reliable. There are some minor repairs that we can take of ourselves and we've been advised to budget for a new furnace in a couple of years but otherwise we've found our ideal - a century home solidly built and properly maintained.

Ted simply nodded his head when he heard the inspector had given his approval and asked if I had any other questions so I enquired what I should feed the crows. He was visibly relieved; "we've actually been very worried about that". He proceeded explain that his wife saves up crusts of bread and fries them in oil (he's promised to leave the jug of oil), adding whatever leftovers happen to be around. I'm a reluctant cook at the best of times, as my children will attest. Since I avoid cooking for my kids, I'm hard put to see myself cooking for the crows, but I didn't tell Ted that.

It seems I passed inspection as well as the house. When I was leaving, Ted gave me a horseshoe which he says came from the original farm. I'm to hang it over the door and he assures me it will bring us luck.

I'm going to need it when the skunks show up.

Buying the Farm

I think we've found our property. By my standards, it's been a long search - we've been working with our agent for almost 6 months. In the past, my realtor relationships have never lasted more than a few weeks - including a couple of one night stands - I bought my first cottage without looking at any other properties and I submitted the offer on my current house within hours of seeing it for the first time.

I enjoy telling people that my real estate transactions average 48 hours. I imagine they are impressed by the hidden depths of my personality. I am not the mild mannered accountant I appear - I am a bold entrepreneur, a free spirit, Donald Trump meets Stevie Nicks. In fact, my friends are amused because they know it takes me two seasons to decide to buy new winter boots by which time the styles have changed and I need to start the whole process over.

The truth is that I am a number cruncher - born and bred. Before I contact a realtor, I've spent months and usually years deciding on the right location, the optimal square footage and the price I'm prepared to pay. I've known since I was in college that I wanted a house in North Toronto and a cottage within a 2 hour drive of that house. Having done all of my homework in advance, the decisions were simple. The realtor who sold me my current house said I was the easiest client he'd ever worked with - I believe that was a compliment.

Living on a farm has always been more of a fantasy than a fixed component of the 30 year plan I devised in college (I really was destined to become an accountant). It was up there with buying an RV and spending a year driving around North America or packing 2 bathing suits and my toothbrush in a carryon and buying a one way ticket to Fiji - a pleasant distraction on a Saturday afternoon in April as I sat at my desk surrounded by unfinished tax returns.

It's only been recently that I realized the farm fantasy could become a reality. My youngest child is headed to college this fall; I have a partner who shares my fascination with alpacas. It's not easy to research rural properties without an agent. Unlike urban neighborhoods, farmers don't usually run open houses. I don't have any friends who live on farms so I couldn't invite myself up for a weekend and try out the location as a visitor. So I contacted an agent with little more than a price range and a general location - something within 30 kilometres of north Oshawa - and said, in effect "show us what you've got".

Our realtor was game but I could sense her growing discouraged as our first several outings served only to tell her what we didn't want - a log home, a bungalow, a new build, a "handyman special" (we're willing to tackle some renovations but we know our limitations), anything recently and expensively renovated (I'm not prepared to pay for someone else's redecorating - unless that someone is Sarah Richardson in which case it's probably out of my price range). Buying a rural property is nothing like buying a builder's home in a subdivision - there is an endless combination of lot size and location to say nothing of building styles, road access and zoning regulations. Our approach has been to look at everything and trust we'll recognize the right place when we see it.

The good news is I think we've found it - a well maintained century home on a 30 acre lot within our geographic parameters. We're going up this afternoon for one more look around before putting in an offer.

It's far from a done deal. Determining the true market value of a rural property is as complicated as determining the right property and for the same reasons - there's so much variation in location and style that's it's almost impossible to find comparables. And who knows what a building inspector may discover in a 112 year old home.

But I think I can say that I've completed step one of my next 30 year plan.

Channeling Sara Richardson

I'm an HGTV junkie - decorating, renovating, landscaping, real estate - I love it all. But sooner or later, sometimes immediately, the hosts irritate me.

There are exceptions - shows I can watch repeatedly - and Sarah Richardson's show is at the top of that list. Sarah is fun without being silly, energetic without perky. Her designs are never too cute, never too extravagant. I could live in her rooms without being intimidated by my own area rugs.

It helps that she's Canadian and lives in Toronto. I've been in most of the neighborhoods featured on her show and visited many of the stores she frequents. She's accessible.

When I first started watching Sarah's show, I wasn't in full design mode. I'd recently moved into an older home in North Toronto that had been tastefully updated by the previous owners. It's not a large house so the rooms dictated my furniture selection and I'd already chosen my paint colors - yellow in the common areas, soothing blues in the bedrooms. I made mental notes as I watched Sarah tackle similar homes in the event my budget someday permits a full scale renovation but in the interim my house make me happy and I'm confident Sarah would approve.

Instead, I looked to her for fashion cues. I work from home and my social life consists of meeting friends at my local Tim Hortons and Friday night burgers at Gabby's. There are few occasions in my life that require more than a pair of jeans and one of the white t-shirts I buy in multiples at Old Navy. But my inner fashionista recoils at having the Fonz as a fashion icon. Enter Sarah with her cute little jackets, colorful peasant shirts and high-heeled boots. A couple of trips to Winners and I'm convinced Sarah would approve of my wardrobe as well as my wall colors. My 50 year old feet are not happy in heels (although the heels with the jeans take a decade off my 50 year old backside) so I've resorted to wearing my old lady walking shoes to Tim's and save the boots for Gabby's.

I've yet to convince Henry, my hairdresser, that I can pull of Sarah's shag. Just as Sarah defers to her carpenters when they inform her that her design, while charming, is impractical, I bow to Henry's professional advice. We've compromised on long bangs.

I was very excited to learn that Sarah's newest show has her renovating a farm house. My boyfriend and I have been dreaming about pulling up stakes and moving to the country and our joint New Year resolution was to start looking at properties. I'm taking Sarah's show as confirmation that our time is now. It's already helped us narrow down the prospects - no log homes, no 1960s ranches (shudder) - we're looking for a century house that hasn't fallen too far into disrepair.

First step - find a pair of bright rubber boots, like Sarah's, that will accommodate my thick calves.