Proof

Here's a photo I snapped yesterday of our home on our way out for a walk.

We moved to our log home last summer. We now live in the same small town my husband grew up in. This is the first time in my life I've lived in a place where anonymity is nearly impossible. Everyone knows everyone and the sense of community runs very, very deep.

The log home was built in the late '80s and was neglected for years when the couple who built it as a vacation home grew elderly and eventually passed away. We haven't had much in the way of time or funds to make the improvements we'd like, but that will all come with time. The house is situated on 2 1/2 acres, all of which is loosely seeded at the moment and full of potential. One of our priorities in the next week or two is to walk the land and decide where we're going to plant our vegetable garden. Then we'll place our seed orders. To say I'm looking forward to homegrown produce would be an understatement, especially after eating bland, store-bought produce this winter shipped from who-knows-where (Chile and California, mostly).

Initially I was a bit iffy about the log home thing. Log homes conjured images of dead animal heads mounted on the walls and oversized furniture upholstered with silhouettes of deer and moose. I'm really a craftsman-style or bungalow person, truth be told. But we kept visiting this cabin when it was on the market and I was drawn to the wonderful energy the home and surrounding land has. Our acreage overlooks a large park and is backed up to the park's two-acre pond. The views from our back deck are wonderful. In the end, I couldn't resist its uniqueness and beauty. So we put in a bid and made it our own.

And that's the story of our cabin.