The pedestal house

In the Canaan Valley, my favorite part of the great state of West Virginia, is a lovely little development called "Black Bear Resort." It's close to three ski areas, including White Grass, and borders on a national wildlife refuge. It has an inn, swimming pool, tennis courts, and other amenities. But what gives it a special kind of charm is that all of the houses are variations on the one pictured here: the pedestal house. Compact and able to fit onto almost any building site, no matter the slope or terrain or composition of the soil, pedestal houses are ideal for mountain retreats. The vast majority of them are one-bedroom mini-houses with a living room that opens to a small kitchen and eat-in area, a small master bedroom, a spacious bathroom, and an upstairs loft for extra overnight guests. Here's a view from the loft in the nicest pedestal house currently for sale:

These are cleverly designed vacation homes with no wasted space, and at a distance, they look a bit like little spaceships on a launch pad or like big treehouses.


They are all arranged around a sort of common area with a lovely view of the refuge and the mountains and ski slopes in the distance. Hey, I am certainly not a resort person, but I find these little houses irresistible. Bob and I spent hours looking at the ones for sale (and for rent), finding one that is listed for only $122,000, all furnishings included. Rental income, when it's not in use, would likely cover a big chunk of the mortgage payment.


Of course, I'm in no position to even think about buying a house, and there is the issue of where Zach would or could live, but these little spaceships gave my creativity a jump-start. There's something enticing about being forced to pare down and live small. And a view like this one helps a lot.

So I have found a little dream-spot, a place I can envision myself living, never mind that it's not now on the list of real possibilities. And leaving Shepherdstown would be hard, trading in the sense of community here -- not to mention my church and friends I've made. What I think is calling to me is the same thing that called to my dad all those years -- the whisper that around that bend, over that mountain, across that meadow might be a place to call home. I once thought it was the seashore that beckoned me, but life in New England was a life devoid of the mountain people -- what Irene endearingly called my "peeps." It's that sense of place I wrote about years ago, that sort of genetic memory that pulls like a magnet back to a place where you feel you belong. It probably isn't Black Bear Resort (or any resort), but it's got my imagination soaring and my feet itching to travel, especially as I have to prepare to vacate this house where I've lived for 12 years and find another place to hang my hat. It's out there somewhere, and I just need to be open to where God leads me.

As the new year dawns, there are things we need to let go of and things we need to take up -- roads we have to follow. I just pray to know what they are and to discern the difference between my will and what God has in mind for me. This is as close as I come to making a new year's resolution.