Buried In Snow

Our first look at Sanctuary, or more correctly, what would become Sanctuary, was on a snowy spring weekend. We were staying at Piety Hill Cottages, a charming B&B in Nevada City. The 1930’s vintage cottages each have unique names and décor. We booked Chestnut Cottage with its lovely blue and white quilt and tiny shower with somewhat intermittent hot water. Somehow I just couldn’t get warm, and when Ron called the office to ask if there was anyway to get more heat, Michael, the innkeeper politely suggested we look in the closet for the space heater. I ended up parking that thing on my side of the lovely blue and white quilt for the duration of the night.

Pam, our delightful realtor, took us out ‘shopping.’ The last place on her itinerary found us on a private road with snow piled up on both sides of one drivable lane. Our destination was at the dead-end. Unable to open the gate, or drive down to the house because of the snow, we tried to decide if it was worth the effort going down to see it. Ron decided to go peek in some windows, and would give us the high sign if things looked promising. But he was taking so long, having disappeared around back, we decided to literally follow in his footsteps and hike in ourselves. Pam was a real trooper in her realtor-dress-shoes. My boots, which worked perfectly well in San Diego rain, turned out to be inadequate for this trek. The snow was higher than their tops, and my toes were soon frozen numb.

But we laughed all the way down on what we presumed was the driveway, took off our wet shoes inside the front door, and took our first look.

I like to think I knew immediately that this would become our Sanctuary. If it wasn’t precisely that clear, what I DID know was that I could see the possibilities from that very first look down the stairs, through the kitchen, all the way to the back of the downstairs. Pam remarked on all the wallpapering that the previous owner had done – all 18 different kinds that you could see in one view  - plus the 5 different floor coverings. It was in need of some TLC to be sure.

We turned up the stairs to what she described as the ‘odd floor plan’ – the entrance to the master bath (complete with a deep Jacuzzi tub!) and the master bedroom. This room extended across the width of the gambrel second story. A snow-covered garden was out one window, and a snow covered granny flat out the other side. We discovered a room that made Ron exclaim that the previous owner must have been a ham radio operator. And a room that had been used for doll making, but would be a wonderful craft room for me.

It was discovery after discovery that gave me shivers on top of the cold. A self-contained guesthouse. A garage large enough to house the Road Trek. Two, count ‘em, two large living room areas conjoined by a lovely beveled glass folding door. Two pantries. And outbuildings we couldn’t access due to the heavy, unplowed, unshoveled snow.

For over a year potential buyers had been looking at this eclectic, extremely wallpapered property and deciding to keep looking. It was to be our last stop. I think it shocked our realtor, although she hid it well. As for us, well it absolutely delighted us. It was as if God had prepared it with us in mind. Our idiosyncrasies just fit the property’s quirks to a tee.