In 2008, when Ash and I were contemplating a move to Boulder, our real estate agent showed us Damnation Ranch. “Not sure what’s going on with this house,” she said. It was in total disrepair, abandoned, overrun with critters and buried in snow. And yet the moment I saw it I was hooked.
I knew beyond doubt that it was the right house for us. Ash cried. “We don’t want that thing,” she said. (And indeed, there’ve been times when I think I should have listened.) But I was determined. In just five days we closed on it.
After the whirlwind of forms and loans and signing documents Ash asked, “how were you so sure about this place?” I didn’t have a good answer. It just felt right. More than right. It felt like home.
I found the drawing below in an old journal during office clean-up just last year. I’d drawn it in 1995, when I was hitchhiking through Guatemala and contemplating what to do when I got back to the states. I wanted to move to the mountains, and I had a very specific vision of what that looked like.
Maybe the Ranch was already in my blood back then. Maybe this house and I have been on a collision course for 13 years. Kind of makes you wonder what else is out there that you’ve already called forth in your dreams, or your spirit.