This is a story about a house that found us, when we weren’t looking.
It all started when the pesky window leak recurred in the motorhome and we had to stay in Florida longer to get it fixed. With extra time, we decided to meander up to Saint Augustine for a few days. But the campground we had chosen there was full, so we ended up quite accidentally in a place we had never heard of, Flagler Beach.
If you don’t believe in love at first sight, then consider this. We arrived on Saturday evening, and by Sunday morning we were looking at real estate listings on line—idle curiosity, we told ourselves. And since we really liked the area and had time to spare, what harm would there be in calling a broker and checking out a listing or two that seemed interesting?—we told ourselves.
The first places we saw were older manufactured homes in a 55-plus park just a few hundred feet from the ocean. Great location and it was a nice, well-kept park. It had a pool and a clubhouse with an ocean view from the rooftop deck. But the housing stock was aging and tired. And besides, we weren’t really in the market—we told ourselves.
Just before we left Flagler, we asked our friendly real estate agent to e-mail us a full list of everything for sale in the area, just to educate ourselves—we told ourselves. We then headed south to New Smyrna Beach for a few days, and put Flagler Beach behind us for a while—so we thought.
On the day we were getting ready to leave New Smyrna for points south, the real estate agent sent the list of listings. I was outside getting the motorhome ready to travel when Jacky came out the door and said “you’ve got to come see this house.” Testy because we were running late, I said, “not now, I’m busy,” and we packed up and left.
We were about to enter the southbound ramp onto the interstate, when Jacky again encouraged me to stop and take a look at the listing. I pulled over. I looked at the pictures. I looked at the location. Then I turned the motorhome around and drove north, back to Flagler Beach.
We would go see the house. If we liked it, maybe it would still be on the market when we returned to Florida in the fall—we deluded ourselves. We viewed the house Wednesday, made an offer on Thursday, and learned that the offer had been accepted on Friday. We have a closing scheduled for July.
Veni, Vidi, Emi. This from two people who agonize over whether to buy a bag of candy in the grocery store if it isn’t on the shopping list. Well, when we do buy an impulse item, it’s a whopper!
We’ve already posted plenty of pictures of the Flagler Beach area, but I can’t resist a few more, because these views are a block and a half–a two minute leisurely walk–from the little house that just fell into our laps. The wooden walkway is the dune crossing at the end of “our street.”
The story of all the coincidences that lead us to this point is much longer (believe it not) than what I’ve told here, but I’ll spare you all the details. Let’s just say that we were swept along by a tide of events in ways that have left us feeling this was meant to be. All because the motorhome leaked and the campground was full and the beach that wasn’t even on our itinerary captivated us both.