For years I've admired the last 5 acre farm in our area. Just 20 years ago there were still a dozen or so parcels of acreage sandwiched between subdivisions. Each new development that went in grew denser and denser, from 4 houses per acre, to 6 houses per acre (including infrastructure and roads), and then came the apartments and townhouses, followed by a shopping center, gas station, car wash, and fast food joints. Our once rural area is swallowed up by cul-de-sacs and drive-thrus.
The farm is next door to the local elementary school, so I looked longingly at it each day that I walked the kids to school during the past 8 years. I dreamed of buying the farm myself one day, and planting an orchard, having a farm stand, pea-patch plots for the apartment dwellers down the road, and a giant pumpkin patch which the school children could visit in October.
The area was logged and cleared in the early 1900's, and then became farmland. Above is the barn on this property in 1938.
Here's the original farm house, built in 1934, ad photographed in 1938. There are a lot of natural springs and wetlands in our area, so that is probably why the house is up on stilts. That might be the outhouse out back to the left.
By 1948 the house had a proper foundation and basement.
An addition and metal-clad windows made the house more modern by 1963.
By 1986 a new house was constructed increasing the size to 4170 square feet.
The new house was built to stand for hundreds of years, incorporatating massive old growth timber in a post-and-beam construction, and thickly insulated walls. The owner built the house himself, as he was a master woodworker and structural engineer.
I'd said a few friendly 'hellos" to the old couple through the years, but last spring when I saw the "Proposed Land Use Action" sign go up, I finally got up the nerve to knock on their door. The old woman invited us in, and the girls and I sat on the couch facing a beautiful stone fireplace while their cats circled us and we made small talk. The property was for sale, and they were actively courting developers. They'd gone through the process to get the 4.85 acre property rezoned to accommodate 29 houses.
Eventually I cut to the chase and expressed my interest in the property, said I knew a few other families who might be interested in coming together to keep the property as farmland, and I raved about the magnificently crafted house, hoping it could be preserved. The house would probably be torn down to maximize the potential for development.
Her husband arrived home and introduced himself, and shortly after the girls and I left. The visit hadn't gone as I had hoped. The couple didn't seem to have any interest in selling to a non-developer, and I think I made them both feel sad about the reality of their decision -- that their beautiful home that they had designed and built, and lived in for decades, was going to be torn down.
A few weeks later when I was walking K home from school I saw the old man and some people on the back property line near the trail to the school. I said hello, and a woman came forward and extended her hand. She was the daughter of the older couple, and was a realtor. The other people in the group were developers, and she was in the middle of a sales pitch. Her dad was busy chatting with the developers, so I told her I was interested in the property, not for intensive development, but as a 4 to 6 family co-housing farming operation, and she handed me her card. It was awkward, but I couldn't let my dream die without one last try.
Later I went to her realtor website and discovered that the property was listed for several million dollars. My heart sank. I might have been able to get a few friends together and offer a little over a million, but several million was out of the question.
The property tax the old couple had to pay in 2012 was nearly $17,000. Like many old timers, their property taxes had become unbearable due to the rezoning and encroaching subdivisions surrounding them. They didn't like how their community had become infested with "garage-mahal" megahouses, how SUVs sped constantly by on what had once been a quiet country road, but most of all how they had to pay so much tax when nothing had changed on their property. They were trapped. Go into debt paying increasing taxes, or sell out to developers, that was what most of the old property owners had to do.
Thirty years ago their property (including house and barn) was valued at $122,00., and their tax bill just a few hundred dollars. In 2012 the tax assessor valued the property and buildings (barn, garage, house) at $1,241,000. They ended up selling it to a developer for $3,789,000.
They bought a new property further out toward the country for about 1/4 of the price they sold this property for. They moved over the winter, and then in March I noticed the windows disappearing from the house and the barn. For a couple of weeks I watched as the structures were stripped, and finally I stopped by to ask if I might dig some of the flowers and shrubs before the bulldozers arrived.
I thought I would find the developer's wrecking crew, but instead I came upon a different elderly couple scooping up paving stones and tossing them into the back of their Subaru. They were friends of the old couple, and said they'd helped build the house years ago, and were very sad that it was going to be torn down. They said they had a smaller property further down the road, totally locked in by subdivisions, and that their home would likely suffer the same fate. They seemed bitter, and I felt bad for them.
Soon the old man pulled up in his truck. I asked if I could dig a few plants, and he said, "yes, help yourself."
I dug some snowdrops and daffodils, took them home, and when I came back for some more, the old man's tone had changed. He said this whole moving process was very difficult for him and he needed privacy, so he asked that I leave and not come back. He looked as though he'd been crying. I wished him well and left quickly.
The next few weeks as I'd pass by on evening walks I'd see him laboring away well after dark, pulling up the flooring from the house, removing copper pipes, loading his truck with anything he could carry.
In the photo above you can see him carrying cabinet doors from the house. It was sad to witness his struggle to leave, and yet he and his wife are now millionaires and their new property and home is even nicer than this one. They'll be fine.
I'm heartbroken over the loss of this "last farm." K only has a few more months of school left, and then next year she'll ride the bus to middle school, so I won't have to walk the path to school past this property anymore. It's the end of an era, the end of a dream.
That's a really interesting (albeit, sad) story. I love how you went to the trouble of finding the old photos. I'm always fascinated by how houses and neighborhoods evolve over time. Too often it seems as if the evolution is toward something less special, but there are examples of thoughtful development, too. It's too bad that the layout of the new development could not at least preserve the original house as one parcel.
Randy
Posted by: Randy Reid | Thursday, April 11, 2013 at 03:00 PM