Abodes abound, but which will abide?

“The Chatsworth house is listed again, and with new pictures this time,” Craig said, referring to one of the houses we were potentially interested in seeing. “Really?!” I said, grabbing my phone to pull up my Zillow app.

We were back in central Illinois after doing a drive-work-drive-sleep-drive marathon from our stop in Montana, to some house-viewing on the Iowa side of the Mississippi and then exploring another home on the Illinois side.

Needless to say, we were both exhausted. I was glad we’d decided to regroup for a week where we'd stayed before – in Comlara Park. Just staying in one familiar place for a while could do wonders for us psychologically. Going through Chisoku’s pre-departure checklist every day (sometimes twice a day) and trying to make sure you didn’t forget to stow this thing, turn off that thing, or unhook from some other thing, can become tedious. Now, we could slow down a little and revisit a part of Illinois that keeps pulling us back by some invisible thread.

The area we've been drawn to here is centered around Farmington, Illinois, which is where Craig’s grandparents lived. They built a house there and raised Craig’s father and aunt there. Craig and I have the loveliest memories from our visits there. I still remember the address by heart… 129 South Main… The clematis that grew by the back of the garage. Eating cereal with his grandparents at the small table in the kitchen. Eating a “fancy” dinner of beef mostaccioli in the dining room. Going on the grocery-shopping circuit with Craig's grandmother – to the three stores where she had coupons. Getting cans of soda out of the bin under the stairs. (God knows how long that soda had been there since only the grandkids drank it!) Craig’s grandfather listening to the police scanner and the farm reports on the radio in the living room. A bowl of candy on the sidebar in the dining room. Watching family members play bocce ball in the back yard while sitting on the lawn swing. Craig’s grandmother’s sun-filled sewing room, just off their bedroom. The big family room upstairs where all the toys could be found in the closet. Playing ping-pong in the basement. The cuckoo clock in the living room, along with the photo of Ferne and Tom when they were young...

The whole area around where they lived reminds us of them and of the joy and ease we felt when we visited them. It’s a hard thing to quantify or describe to a real estate agent. No wonder our perfect abode eludes us! The real estate databases don’t have a filter setting for "the smell of grandpa’s garage.”

Chatsworth House

Meanwhile, every home on our radar has had its own story in our collective consciousness. “The Chatsworth house” had been on our list since mid-May, but we hadn’t gone to see it back then because the listing didn’t have pictures of the interior. It lingered in the Internet-o-sphere while we drove out to Idaho and back. And to our surprise, the interior pictures weren't too bad. We booked a showing of it, loved a lot of things about it, and even came close to making an offer on it. But we backed out upon further reflection, mostly due to its being a bit too remote.

Fairbury House

Then, there was “the Fairbury house.” We drove by this old farmhouse almost immediately upon getting back to this area. We were convinced we might love it. We knew from the pictures that we’d have to rescue it from the era of wallpapered-everything and update the kitchen. However, the property was beautiful, with lush green grass and mature trees. Nearby properties looked well maintained. And the town of Fairbury was positively adorable!

However, upon getting a showing of it, we found out why it was being sold “as is,” and that the electrical system was a veritable pile of spaghetti. Very scary! Even with our openness to home projects, this house was too far gone to take the risk.

Iowa Farmhouses

Prior to returning to Illinois we stopped for a short time in Iowa again. There, we decided to check out “the one with the bins,” which was the way we referred to two similar properties. Both were farmhouses that had acreage but also had grain silos (bins) adjacent to them that would periodically be accessed by someone else. In one case, we’d have to share our driveway with that person. In the other case, we’d have a separate driveway. But in both cases, we weren’t sure how we felt about having someone come on our property like that. We simply drove by each one and decided not to book a showing.

The Church

Then, there was “the church.” This was a converted Catholic church that was available in Montrose, IA, just by the Mississippi. We drove down to see it on a whim, even though it didn’t have acreage or, really, anything else we had been looking for. It was sort of on our way to the house in Ursa (more on that later), and we figured we'd just drive by. However, the owner saw us pull up and invited us in for a personal showing. Surprisingly, it had a lot of places where we could have parked Chisoku, but it really wasn’t for us in the end. It was cool to see, though!

Ursa House

Just across the Mississippi, in Illinois, “the Ursa house,” had appeared on the market just two days before we got there. It looked so nice that we knew we had to get there pretty quick to see it. Little did we know, but the owners and the property were kinda famous. It sits about 15 minutes from Quincy, IL, which is a small city on the river, about two hours north of St. Louis. The house is absolutely gorgeous! Meticulously maintained. A huge, beautiful white barn where Chisoku could live, a separate garage with power and a bathroom! Another tool shed/workshop. And a beautiful garden, where local high school kids have, over the years, come to have their prom pictures taken. All around it, the land opened into park-like green fields, anchored by mature trees and edged by a cornfield. So, Craig would have his various sheds, and I’d have my coveted country views!

Aside from bedrooms that were a little smaller than we wanted, this house and property were perfect! The only thing holding us back was the local area. There wasn’t much to see or do. The town of Ursa is not very big, but it has a park and a drive-through coffee shop. The city of Quincy had some neat mansions to drive by. But despite having the riverfront, there weren’t many eateries or places to hang out. We visited the local bicycle shop in Quincy and saw a number of cyclists riding right by the campground where we stayed. So, we were optimistic that cycling could provide an outlet and a way to meet people. Based on this very small bit of promise, we went ahead and put in an offer on the Ursa house. But alas, it was not accepted in favor of a competing offer.

In a way, I think we both breathed a sigh of relief. Something about that area gave us a weird vibe. It didn’t help that it was pouring down rain on the day of our showing. Plus, when we drove by the little park in Ursa, we noticed several signs that said, “No Dogs in Park.” Um… okay? It just seemed like the whole town was telling us to go away. So, it’s probably for the best that it didn’t work out.

We’re still searching in central Illinois, waiting to see whether the right place reveals itself. I keep telling myself to BELIEVE and that we'll find our house eventually! In July, I’ll start a new remote job, which means that soon we’ll both be full-fledged digital nomads — wandering the country with laptops and Starlink, chasing the feeling of a world that existed before either one.