The Hollow will change you

[slipjig3]

figmentj and I are currently in the midst of apartment hunting in the Keene, New Hampshire area, in anticipation of our move there so that she may begin her grad studies. Apartment hunting is an activity I rank somewhere near tripping on asphalt while wearing shorts on my list of Fun Things to Do, especially when it's out of state, but we diligently headed up to Keene on Saturday with appointments to look at a few prospective homes. The first was in decent condition but a little too small for our purposes; the second was a bit more banged-up but more than livable, and big enough for us to express interest.

Then there was the third and last on our docket, which is a log cabin out in the middle of nowhere outside Gilsum. Please let me repeat that: a log cabin out in the middle of nowhere. It costs more than the other places we'd looked at, so we weren't really considering it that heavily, more on a whim than anything; we even thought about canceling our appointment altogether and trucking home. But we figured it'd be good for the entertainment value if nothing else, so we headed off down a small road, and then a smaller one, and then onto something that made the GPS go, "Wait...what are you...?" That last one was Hammond Hollow Road, and the cabin was at the very end of it.

My gods, people. My gods, I have never been in a place that felt more immediately right. It is, indeed, a log cabin, wood inside and out, but beautifully constructed, and lemme tell ya it was ginormous, big enough that we could take in a roommate and never ever see them. The kitchen had more counterspace and cabinets and drawers than we'd ever conceivably need, the master bedroom had sunlight pouring in like the sea, the backyard had beautiful garden space and a pond on the property behind a ridge of trees...it was beyond perfect. Best of all, when I looked over at figmentj, all the tension she had been carrying for the last several months, all the weight she bore in her shoulders and arms was completely and utterly gone. Just plain gone. This was the place.

The landlady was utterly wonderful, clearly loved the place, and could clearly see that we were falling in love with it. She said something that I doubt I'll ever forget: "The Hollow will change you," which (aside from being the best plot bunny I've tripped over in years) seemed an acknowledgement of what we were experiencing. She told us that the roads are kept well plowed int he winter, and that the surrounding homes had mostly family members and vegetable farmers who bartered, and that she hadn't shown the place to many people lately, and she'd be willing to consider lowering the rent over the summer until the financial aid kicked in, and I knew every step of the way that this was how every horror novel of the 70's after Harvest Home started and didn't care. We went in expecting to thank her for her time; we went out asking her how to get in.


The kitchen, and figmentj. If you could see her face, it would be smiling.


The view from the front porch. Note the horse.


A blurry shot of the living room. The wood stove will be taken away by the previous tenant, sadly; equally sadly, the carpeting will not. C'est la vie.

So now we wait. We have our references in, and there's the whole credit check thing as well (not to mention the frantic job hunting that would be happening anyway). But the landlady strikes us as a woman who puts great faith in her intuition, and if we clicked with her as she did with us, then this can and will happen. I now end this post, as it's difficult to type with all my fingers crossed.

Comments

[oneagain.livejournal.com]

The place is beautiful! Best of luck!!!