In 1992, my husband and I bought the last really good shack in Benton County, Arkansas. A 1890 farmhouse with 7 acres was purchased for the grand total of $25,000.
I know! Unbelieveable, right. Well, if you had seen it, you would have thought that we were nuts. It had been rented by folks that were ultimately run off by the sheriff and then became a party house. And not in a good way.
The house sat half way up the ridge, the front facing the road with about an acre of land cleared. This whole hillside was littered with liquor bottles, car parts and your basic garbage. But in this debris, the entire hillside was covered in cheerful, yellow daffodils.
For me, it was the only redeeming value for this property at the time. These hardy souls had been planted decades ago by a woman in the back woods of the Ozarks, so that each year, she would be surrounded by this golden light.
So on this gray, cold February day in 1992, we embarked on an adventure to claim this house as our own and to live in the last really good shack in Benton County.