The Road Home


This is the road to our new farmhouse. There are no guard rails, or pavement beneath your wheels. It’s a hard road to travel. You can’t speed down it even if you want to, but there are things to discover along the way. And something beautiful at the end.

Many of the people down this road pass in and out of our lives. The road is scattered with weekend cabins. They come in the fall with their orange coats and their deer rifles. They come in the summer with their ATVs and their beer. If you wait long enough, they’ll go away.

The handful of people who stick around for the isolating snows of winter and the pounding rains of spring are an optimistic bunch. They put out mailboxes at the ends of their driveways as an affirmation to the universe that someday the post office will deliver mail down this road. They know anything is possible if you believe. Even mail.

There’s trouble in the road. Don’t be scared by the first creek. The creeks get bigger. Keep going. You’re not going to drown. Don’t forget to look around. You might see a black bear or a wild turkey. Or maybe the first sweet pea leaning its pretty bloom over a fence post.

Some people want to stop at the second creek. But you can’t turn around. There’s no place to go but forward. Do you see a bunch of abandoned vehicles? People have gone down this road before you and they made it.

Sometimes the road is generous and offers you a bridge. It’s made of wood and it clacks when you drive over it, but it will support you. Look around and see the foundation stones of the old gasoline plant that employed 50 men a century ago in the gas and oil heyday of this now-deserted area. They didn’t have cars. They had to walk this road every day.

The last creek is the biggest. Flash floods can make it temporarily impassable, but if you just wait a little while, the water will go down. If you can get past this one last obstacle, there are better things ahead.

Maybe even a brand new almost-finished farmhouse.

Sometimes life is just that way.

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Posted by Suzanne McMinn on December 26, 2007  

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21 Responses | RSS feed for comments on this post

  1. 12-26

    How very lovely. So peaceful and promising. Thanks for sharing.

  2. 12-26



  3. 12-26

    Very calming and peaceful looking. I can only dream.

  4. 12-26

    I love the way you write! :heart:

  5. 12-26

    Love your blog BUT if you don’t mind a small suggestion????

    The polka dots really make it difficult reading the text. The only way I can do it comfortably is to highlight the text. BTW I love polka dots just not trying to read through them ;)

  6. 12-26

    Now that I reloaded the page the polka dots are gone and I can see :) YEAH. Maybe it just defaulted to the dots since it was the first time I visited!

  7. 12-26

    Wonderful post and pictures!!!

  8. 12-26

    Anne, I’m sorry for the glitch! I’m glad it looks right now! It’s not supposed to be polka dotty against the text in the posts!

  9. 12-26

    I’m not sure how I found your site, but I love it. What a beautiful place to live!

  10. 12-26

    Sometimes you find the most beautiful things down the road less traveled.

  11. 12-26

    Sounds like heaven. A very clever post Suzanne. I’m glad I found you too. I believe it was Mary Ann who sent me.

  12. 12-26

    My heart yearns for those mountains and bare trees…just beautiful…
    Just found you…and have been catching up…very special.

  13. 12-26

    Lovely post, as always, Suzanne.

    I hope you and your entire family had a wonderful Christmas Day.

    -Kim :catmeow:

  14. 12-26

    …I so want to live there! That is beautiful and so is your new home…

    …Thanks for sharing!

    …Blessings… :o)

  15. 12-27

    Your road is wonderful, kind of like falling down the rabbit hole. *g* The house looks lovely and I bet y’all can’t wait to move in. Thank you for the beautiful pictures.

  16. 12-27

    Wow, What is the odds on finding a needle in the hay stack?
    I feel like I did. I haven’t thought of Black Walnut Festival in too many years. It is a rainy cold day here and I am surfin’. I don’t respond to blogs or other on-line thingys but I am figurin somehow, I should post a response. Where is your farmhouse located, what county? I live in an old farmhouse built 1852 with turkeys that scratch out my flowers, deer that eat in one night 40.00 plants,that I didn’t even think of covering with chicken wire, beaver that dam the creek at the bridge, then water floods the roadway. I feel I live back in WVA, Roane county. Have a safe New Year.

  17. 12-27

    Our new farmhouse–and the old one I live in now–are in Roane County! :heart:

  18. 12-27

    Love the new farmhouse. I too live in a very old renovated farmhouse. There’s nothing like it. I love it. We too have the narrow country roads … but they take me home!


  19. 12-27

    I am amazed……do you really travel that road at night? In the middle of winter? I love your house, it’s beautiful, but that road scares me…..I don’t think I’d ever leave home! Does UPS deliver? You know you can actually order groceries from….that’s what I’d do!

  20. 4-19

    Suzanna, love your site…brings back a lot of memorys for me as I grew up in a place much like your home sets in the hills of West Va. My mom and family still live there and I go home as often as we can to visit. Had to leave the state in order for my husband to find a job…sure wish West Va. provided more working companys so people wouldn’t have to leave the state. Would love to go hunting for wild greens and morel mushroom this time of year, think of me as you pick them this spring…it’s like going on a treasure hunt, isn’t it? Enjoy them and your new home.
    Just another country girl from the Hill’s of West Va. Love, Fern :guitar:

  21. 6-2

    I just found this today. Love all of it. I grew up in West Virgina and now live in Florida but my heart will always be in West Virginia. I dream of some day living there again in a little country home out in the middle of no-where-anywhere. My family was from Pickens-Helvetia-Monterville, WV. Any one know the where abouts of it. Email me at [email protected]

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The Slanted Little House

"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....

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