Continuing on down the road, we left the mountains of North Carolina for a little town in southern Tennessee. We were already road weary, but a local told us that the trip should only take five hours. We could handle that. Why it took us seven hours with no mishaps, I can’t say. But this is the story of my life, so I should’ve known. It was a Saturday afternoon with no holiday traffic.

Our first stop was a little five acre place. I found the place for sale online and talked occasionally with the owners over the last several months. (We weren’t looking for five acres, but I worked the possibility of buying acreage from an adjoining parcel.) They were a wealth of information on the area and didn’t seem to mind all my questions. In fact, she called me a couple times with other leads. Only in the country…

When we pulled on down the lane, we had our first inkling that our search may have ended. There was a drought in the area, and the first rain had just ended. Everything was still, as if it were concentrating on soaking in every drop. Amish farms lined the narrow road, and their haystacks were piled in teepees by pitchfork. Black and white Holsteins grazed pasture, and the corn rows went as far as you could see. The homes were modest, plain, but well-kept. Handmade signs for vegetables, butter, and lumber hung by the roadside.

From the road

The farmhouse we were inquiring about had all the modern conveniences inside, but maintained a somewhat plain façade. There were barns and other out-buildings where barnyard cats, chicks, a sheep, and bunnies-for-sale were kept. A little pond sat on the front of the property. Our children made friends real quick with the owners’ three children, and that was that. They were off, and I felt fine with letting them go. As far as I could tell, there wouldn’t be any speeding cars whizzing by their play area.

From this stop, we traveled on the back country roads to visit with Greg’s aunt, who lives in a little town in northern Alabama. She was quite the host, with the seven of us invading her home. She was one of nine children living during the Depression, though, and they managed with one bathroom. This was nothing to her, I suppose, since we had three bathrooms at her house. This is the best part about not being in a hotel room, besides the lovely conversation from our hosts.

Greg, I, and the two smallest children left the next day at sunup to visit about 12 properties in the area. While there were several nice places, none were a good fit for one reason or another. The day left us exhausted—traipsing through woods, off-roading bumpy acreage, and eating bites of a sandwich in between stops. Yet, we weren’t discouraged, as years of research finally paid off. We’d found a nice place, and nobody knew enough about it to drive the prices up sky-high.

I’ve mentioned our reasons for relocating several times—the largest reason being economic. It’s difficult to write plainly on the matter, as I must remember this is the internet. But let me tell you the four criteria that we were looking for: significantly cheaper cost of living, a conservative reformed church nearby, a major city within an hour, and a climate/community hospitable to growing food.

It doesn’t seem that these four things would be difficult to find in one spot, but it is. There was always at least one factor missing, usually the “reformed church” one. Here in southern Tennessee, we found the cost of living to be about 70% of our current location; an ARP church; Huntsville and Nashville within an hour either way; and an organic community of farmers. While it wasn’t a stipulation, we found several other appealing factors in this area: a hospital and major shopping a five-minute drive away; a thriving, organic Old-Order Amish community; mild winters; mountains; family and another blogger-you’d-love-to-meet (and I did) living nearby.

Well, that’s enough writing for now. We have a few leads we’re following up on (some people who know this guy who heard about something that might be coming up for sale…), and I’ll write again on the subject when I actually have something to say.