Buying Land
A good area for A Good Spot
I have found a corner of the world where I would like A Good Spot to be, eventually. Before I tell you where — and I may or may not name where in this piece so that the riff-raff don’t flock there, not that any of you are riff-raff — let me describe it and my experience of it at the beginning of August.
By the shores of Gitchee Gumee
By the shores of Gitchee Gumee, among rolling hills, on top of mountains, and along rivers stand woods and forests of birch, poplar, and pine and people well-endowed with common sense.
Spending three days in the area was long enough for me to fall in love with it. Accompanying me were my dog, Ande, and a friend, whose identity I'll protect for now. Our visit happened to coincide with an art festival weekend during which people can drive from art studio to studio (i.e., homes) to talk with artists and see and buy their art. My Airbnb host was one of the organizers. It was so well organized I couldn’t believe this was its first year. This was a most pleasant way to spend a weekend getting to a know an area.
This is where it got weird.
Have you ever had the experience of people saying exactly what you needed to hear without prompting them whatsoever? I had this very uncanny experience while I met good people doing good things. I met:
A jewelry artist who doesn’t like drama and loves to learn new ways of making art.
A farmer who has enough solar panels to feed energy into the grid and who laughs at himself for thinking that he could make money on rhubarb. (That remains to be seen because his rhubarb jam is addictive. It’s made in a kitchen “not inspected by the state’s department of agriculture, and we like it that way.)
A homesteader who repurposes things into beautiful and useful things such as turning a dock into a shed. While I was standing there, the stranger from whom he acquired a countertop a while ago randomly showed up and they rushed into the house so he could show him how he repurposed it. (I regret not following them in.)
A wood artist who finds their material in their wood pile.
A painter whose husband empowered her to quit her job in the Twin Cities and move back to this special area, where she was born and grew up, so that she could be a full-time painter. Now she teaches a painting class where wine is always welcome.
That is not a full account of the characters I met and the things that were said as I needed to hear them. All that I experienced convinced me, and nothing appeared to show the contrary, that this place values “living and let live,” resourcefulness, renewal, and not doing away with the old just because it is old.
The Fates may have played a role in my ending up spending a weekend in this area. I had been staring at Zillow for weeks, looking mainly in northern Wisconsin. Then a chance to take a trip with a friend arose. I booked one night in an off-grid Airbnb in northern Wisconsin and one in the Upper Peninsula. The off-grid host never confirmed the reservation so I changed the UP reservation to two nights. (So, yes, the special corner of the world is in the UP.)
We arrived on a Friday evening and went directly to the farmers’ market. In addition to the stalls of abundant food and art, greeting us were live music and people who wanted to have a conversation with us about Ande. They wanted to have a conversation. They wanted to hear the answers to the questions they asked and they wanted to share their thoughts. At first this threw us off balance but within a day we acclimated.
The rest of the weekend, spent in the Airbnb chalet as home base, was spent driving to the art studios, walking barefoot and bare-pawed in Lake Superior, talking with people, and deciding to spend an extra night to complete the process of falling in love with the area. An unprompted statement from a person summed up what we observed: “People love art and dogs around here!”
A little bit of perusing Zillow also occurred over the weekend and a small, inexpensive, unimproved lot near the chalet manifested. The desire to act likewise manifested. The precise lot was identified with a GIS site. The precise lot was espied and found beautiful…and to be very close to the farmer with the rhubarb jam.
As Longfellow recorded,
But my Hiawatha answered, Nothing daunted, fearing nothing: "Big words do not smite like war-clubs, Boastful breath is not a bow-string, Taunts are not so sharp as arrows, Deeds are better things than words are, Actions mightier than boastings!"
I took action. I am purchasing the piece of property with potential as a writer’s retreat and an investment property, as a future Airbnb. It fits into my long-term plan of having small good spots (mainly campsites and tiny homes) the rent from which can help fund rescuing animals. Originally I envisioned them all on one large tract of land, but one separated from the group is manageable.
The bow-string is drawn: a check for the earnest money is in the mail.
P.S. Apologies for Privacy
I close with an apology. I am sorry I haven’t been writing regularly. I don’t have the hang of “reporting as I go.” I am so used to guarding my privacy. I barely keep a diary because I worry about what others will learn about me if they read it, even if it’s after I’m dead. One person read my diary once and I married him so that he couldn't be compelled to testify. (That’s a joke, in case you couldn’t tell. I keep a diary as a historian would, that is, with honesty because if, by chance, a future historian decides to use it, I want to continue serving the creation of knowledge.)
Lake Superior is magical. Mazel tov!
Great stuff. I’ve never been but it’s been on my destination for a long time.