Today we viewed a house. What I was imagining us in would be something like this...
OK so it's kinda wonky and a little Swiss Family Robinson. It's owned by one of Santa's little helpers and was built steadily and with great care over the past 15 years. This kooky wooden dwelling is filled with warmth and soul. There is so much potential, but yet completely livable as is. It sits on 10 acres with Hobart's last freshwater rivulet rumbling below a rather steep driveway. The garden is terraced and could almost be mistaken for Indian paddy fields! But the air is crisp, the sounds are magical, the energy is sublime and its only ten minutes to the city.
There are bandicoots, wallabies, echidnas and birdsong that would soothe your soul, all of which has left us nothing less than enchanted.
So what to do? Is this the place for us, where the boys build cubby houses, share their garden with native bush, nurture their green thumbs and have that childhood we seek for them?
Or do we remain cautious, buy conservatively, consider the future possibilities of a return to Europe and not fall in love?
My heart is calling out, but I'm not sure what it's saying. Which one do I listen to and which way do we go?
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