Letting the Light In

As it's been mentioned before, when we purchased Lazy Fox the house was boarded up. When the long time occupant Mary Pierce died (her husband passing years before she did), and after her family had cleaned out the hoarding craziness she left behind, the house experienced a bit of vandalism. I've not yet gotten the total story, but it sounds like a mix of bored teenagers and druggies found their way to the vacant home and had their ways with it. In 2007 when it was finally sold by the Pierce family, the new owner boarded up the windows after finding a rock thrown through one of the leaded glass beauties. With all of this turmoil swirling around, we felt our first order of business needed to be removing the boards and letting the house breathe. We needed to let the light in.

Front porch after letting the light in

Front porch before

So, we put out the call for a Letting the Light In party. A group of close friends came to Lazy fox to help us take off the boards. It was the first time our friends had seen our new farm-in-to-be, and the first time we were able to really see the inside of the house. Beers were consumed, laughter was had, and in about 30 minutes the boards were off. 

Bob removing boards

Clay gettin' her done

 












Tours were given, observations were made . . . the air was filled with a mixture of hope, nostalgia, opportunity, and lots of questions. Questions like "who lived here before," "what's the history of this place," and "are you going to do a cleansing ceremony" were heard more than once. Surprisingly "are you in over your head" was never uttered, although it may have indeed been thought, and has been asked since. It was a wonderful day, the first of many that infused the land with love and light.

The house breathes.

In the Beginning . . .

I've been thinking a lot about how we got here to Fort Collins, where we're going broke, waffling  between the joy of possibility and the stress of our day to day reality. How we got here, to owning a 2 acre lot with a charming, rundown brick bungalow and oodles of potential, while renting a 780 square foot condo with limited outside space consisting of the parking lot and a charming, rundown alley. I guess it's easiest to start at the beginning.

When we moved away from Fort Collins almost 10 years ago, I had the notion we'd be back. But after 9 years in Golden we started to really feel settled. We found the perfect school for the kids, John's job at United Launch Alliance was strong, and I had a good balance going between volunteer/consultant/stay at home mom. Our circle of friends in the area felt strong, and I didn't pine for the community we had left behind (as much). The major remodel we had done to our 1944 bungalow was serving us well, and the landscaping we had done over the years was really in full swing. And of course, that's when John got the job offer at CSU.

Skipping over the emotional turmoil we went through on deciding that the job was right for John, the determination was made last summer to accept it. We sold our home ourselves in a mere 7 days, which was great and really put the pressure on to find our new home in Fort Collins. Our criteria was simple: 4 beds, 3 baths, garage, a cook's kitchen, and NO REMODELING! In 2008 we gutted our home in Golden and added a second story. It's true our marriage survived, and we really didn't care to experience that stress again. So after looking at several houses that just didn't fit the bill, it's no surprised that I laughed in John's face when he showed me a listing that entailed a boarded up brick bungalow. As I recall, my exact reaction was "Are you fucking kidding me? NO! Did you see there's a boarded up house on this lot? NO!"

The house we left in Golden

John made his case to just look at it. It has so many of the things we want, he said. It's 2 acres actually in old town, no crazy bike route required. It has a brand new 2400 sq foot machine shed and beautiful, flat, south facing land we can cultivate. And the house has charm beneath those boards probably. Let's just go look. So we did. 

The house at Lazy Fox

The moment we stepped on to the lot, we both knew we had to do it. We had to take this crazy step. The house did have charm beneath the boards, and even though there was no electricity, I didn't feel creeped out at all when we walked it in pitch black with our flashlights. It was apparent the home (and it's occupants we have since found out) had been through years of neglect and abuse, but that didn't give me the chills or turn me off. I actually felt the joy on the land; there had been happy times here and I felt the rebirth of those times calling us.

That day we made an offer. At sunset we walked to the nearby playground and watched the sky changing over the land. A big ol' fox came around the corner of the house and lazed about. Unphased by the presence of us or our dogs as we walked back toward the house, the fox was totally at home. Over the next few weeks we learned the fox had lived there for some time, and then we learned it had died. We mulled over what to call this new home, and then the name came: Lazy Fox.

We rented a condo a mile away that is far too small for our familial energy, but it's only temporary we figured. And as we should have known, this is all taking much longer than we had hoped and costing us more money than we have. So how did we get here when could have bought a perfectly fine house with some of what we wanted? We got ourselves into this crazy little paradox, I believe, because this is what we do. A dear friend once said "That's you guys: chaos." I've resented the comment over the years, and now I am seeing that he was simply stating the pure truth. From feeling the energy that literally bounces off the walls in The Teeny Weeny Condo we rent to the way we navigate decision making, I am face to face with our chaos this year. A new friend recently told me that we just need to get outside more. And she's right. Our chaos dissipates in the wide open space of outside, and so we return again to the vitality calling us at Lazy Fox.