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18 June 2009 ~ Denver, Colorado

Back in 1945 one of my Dad’s sisters married a farmer in northeastern Colorado. I know the exact date and the details of their wedding day but I’m not certain what year they built their first home. The family farm was already well established and past the half century mark when my Aunt and her Farmer carved out a few acres of the land to build a cozy nest.

They started the house with a basement. It was a good plan, a simple plan and probably a wise way to deal with hard weather and minimal finances. They probably dug the well and the septic system at the same time they dug the basement. They stacked four sturdy cinder block walls and framed windows and built a stairway to ground level then capped the basement with a flat roof. My Uncle was farming with his parents and brother so I imagine it felt good to finally have a little house of his own.

The basement was just the beginning. It would provide shelter from the unpredictable weather and be a comfortable space until time and money would allow them to build the rest of the house. In the meantime they laid tile floors and plumbing and electricity through the rooms. They could walk a continuous loop that connected two bedrooms, a bathroom, a living room and a big farm kitchen.

It wasn’t long before they added two children to the little basement house. First a son, then a daughter and to commemorate each birth they planted a tree, one at the front of the house and one at the back. Those kids have passed the half century mark themselves and they still remember riding their tricycles around the loop at breakneck speed. Through the kitchen, down the hall, through both bedrooms then into the living room and back to the kitchen again. Round and round until Mommy chased them back outdoors. They have good memories of that little house on the prairie and of measuring their growth against those sturdy maples that were growing tall and strong.

A few years down the road the family was about to outgrow their little underground house so they went house hunting. They found the perfect house in the big city but there was just one snag. The family didn’t want to move to the city they wanted to move the city house to the country and land it right on top of their little basement on the farm! The house was sitting at a busy intersection and couldn’t stay because a highway was going right through the property. My Aunt and Uncle planned to buy the house for a small price and make the arrangements to move it over 60 miles. It was a good plan but it wasn’t a simple plan and in the end proved too hard to accomplish. My Aunt’s twin sister was in the market for a house at the same time so she and her husband saved the pretty highway house and moved it onto their own city lot just a few miles away.

The Farmer’s family outgrew the little basement and years later rented and eventually sold the house to my brother. It was the early eighties and the house hadn’t changed much in forty years. My brother and his wife settled in but decided early that the house would soon be too small for their own family so they raised the roof. They built a loft bedroom and an extra room and installed skylights and opened a cathedral ceiling. Their meticulous work turned the dark small space into a light filled, beautiful home. It was still a simple basement house but a shrewd real estate broker would have listed it using the buzz words “earth sheltered” or mentioned the energy efficient wood burning stove that heats the entire house. They built a huge outbuilding on the acreage and added smaller buildings and a variety of small animals. It was a good place for them to raise their kids.

At the turn of this century the little house on the prairie was sold again. My brother and his wife held a big farm auction then loaded what was left into their RV and hit the road as full time workampers. They sold the house to the young couple who had been married right there on the lawn the year before. Our girls had made wonderful memories with their country cousins over the years and Heather loved everything about that house. She loved it so much that she and Joshua spoke their wedding vows out on the lawn and a year later made the little house their home.

Time passed, like it always does, too quickly and the addition of four little boys to one little house has left the family squeezed tight. My grandsons have been taking the same laps through the rooms that my cousins did all those years ago. They love their little country house but miss the loved ones who live so far away. Our daughters have always been best friends and still wear out the phone lines between them now that they are both raising sons. The fifty miles that separate our house from the little country house have grown long because we make the journey at least once or twice a week. It was becoming evident that it was time to get the girls closer together again. It was time to let the cousins grow up together. It was time to give them the chance to deepen their relationships with this circle of grandparents and great grandparents who live here in the city. It was time to sell the little house.

If all goes as planned in just over a week the newest owners will take possession of the house. Heather and her family will move into a temporary home in a small town not far away. We didn’t want to move them twice but the perfect little house in the city hasn’t shown its face yet. We hope it won’t be long. The packing and cleaning and moving will take our minds off the fact that this time we are really saying goodbye to the little house on the prairie for the last time. It still sits on a few acres of one of Colorado’s historic Centennial Farms. The farm itself has actually been in my Uncle’s family for nearly 120 years and Heather’s closest neighbors are shirttail cousins. I barely remember the house from my childhood but I have lots of good memories of the last thirty years. The house has changed in countless ways over those years but the view hasn’t changed. You can see miles of wheat fields from the yard and the birthday trees still stand tall in the summer sun. But the dreams of a young couple making a life on the Colorado plains are probably no different than when my Aunt and her handsome Farmer sunk that first shovel in the sandy soil over 60 years ago. I hope the new owners will love this little house, I hope they have the same dreams.