Home Sweet Home: We're In

We have welcomed ourselves home. We're finally in!

The Teaster's are no longer living in a temporary townhouse and parallel parking along curbs. We are no longer taking our weekly drive down the twisty orchard road to check in on the new house progress. We are no longer waiting. We are now living. We are living inside a home that still feels like a tiny retreat. Something that maybe we have come to to escape the neighborhood life for a day, something we used to do often. It feels like a place where we've come to for just an afternoon to roam in muddy boots to explore, breathe and debrief, except we've come here to stay for good. Can you believe we live here? is a question that Rob and I continually bounce back and forth between one anther. We haven't come to fully comprehend that we are in fact home... that this place is ours... and that we have always meant to be right here since the beginning of us.

Christmas '14 will always be remembered as "our first Christmas here". Our immediate families have made their first visits already and we have had our first evening of dinner guests. Little feet other than our own children's have already run across these floors and I can't think of a better way to break this place in than that. Our first weekend with overnight friends whom we love as family is in store soon. It's real, this place. Feels amazing to share it with the souls we love most.

Our home is situated on the highest part of our humble 2.3 acres. Our 2.3 acres is a sliver sectioned off of a larger 300 acre portion of protected mountain land laced with gravel roads and dirt pathways that lead to many overlooks. We are one of 3 families who live on the 300 acres, which we have permission to explore anytime we please by foot or by ATV. In other words, we got 300 acres for the price of 2. So much history of orchard life, wartime and the fabrication and first usage of early railways that stretches across the Blue Ridge Mountains belongs to this rural community. The views are stunning. We got lucky. I'm still thanking Rob for finding this place for our little family and I will do so until the day I die.

From the front porch...

Slowly but surely, beloved items that I have gathered and tucked away over the years are making their way onto our walls and shelves around this house. I'll save this for the house we'll build one day, I'd say. This is the fun part; taking inventory of forgotten treasures. Treasures from grands and great-grands are being dispersed into plain sight which fills my heart with joy each and every time I look at them. A quilt from my late grandmother now covers my Oia at night while she sleeps. A purple floral kerchief that was also once my grandmothers now resides under Esme's lamp atop her dresser. A few sets of salt and pepper shakers that I always eyed as a small child that were a proud part of another grandmother's collection are tucked safely on shelves around our dining room. Now a part of my kitchen are vintage and antique dishes from my grandmothers that make my heart swoon while longing to hear what wonderful stories they could share if only they could talk. The handmade wooden tool tote that Rob's great grandfather used to carry makes the perfect wine caddy. The wooden figures that my grandfather carved stand quietly throughout but I still hear his voice when I look up at them. The canning jars from my grandmothers cellar no longer hold her vegetables but filter the sunshine from my kitchen windows instead. These are only a few of the tangibles that will accent all the memories yet to be made here that will ultimately help shape this house into a home. We really do feel surrounded by love.

Oia's room... she wanted red. It's her.

Little sister sleeps here. She asked for purple.

We were adamant this house have a playroom. Best idea ever.

The heart of a home. And my favorite window in the house.

Consider us happy. Our parenthood is a day to day challenge but our home and children are blessings that nothing can beat. So home sweet home we will be... right here and living, not ever to be confused with existing.