Almost from the time we were married, we’ve dreamed of owning a home and a patch of land in the mountains. When I started this blog, I even called myself a mountain girl–but it was just a dream.
When Zia was tiny, we began working toward that dream with a budget chart marked Lucero Mountain Property and a set of envelopes for all our expenses. A year or two later, we had a garage sale, packed the rest of our stuff in a truck, and headed west.
We landed in a tiny condo at the foot of the Rocky Mountains and rented for a year, reveling in how close we’d come to those sweet mountains. 5500 ft. is a lot higher than the plains of Kansas City, right?
When Caleb came to live with us, it was time to move again. We got up into the mountains this time, and although it wasn’t our own, we loved our home. Our little Cash was born right up high in the Rockies. It took a little while, but we adjusted and learned to breathe and bake at 8250 ft. up.
This spring, our house went up for sale, and it was time for us to find another home. We searched for five months, looked at countless houses, and bid or almost bid on four or five.
For a while it seemed like we might not find the right place. But then, just in time, we found a little piece of heaven on a mountain (9100 ft. high!)
Lately we’ve been jumping through all those fiery little hoops of loan pre-approval, offer letters and countered-offer letters and acceptance letters (yay!), inspections (home, well, sewer), tests (radon, water), radon mitigation, home appraisal, and loan approval.
As of this morning, we finally hold the deed in our hands. It’s been a long time dreaming, waiting, and working–but we have a home in the mountains.
Wooooooo-hooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!! And that’s one wild Davy Crockett mountain man I-just-got me-a-grizzly-bear cat scream-like yowl.