They say "Home is where the heart is."
As cliché as it that sounds, we’ve found that phrase to be true thus far. Particularly, in our first home.
Back in 2015 and only a year into our marriage, Matt and I bought a little white house with ten acres up in Kittanning. At the time, it was just the two of us and our sweet brown dog, Lucy. We’d always wanted some land to call our own and the house had just that and more: A great backyard, a little pond, a stream, some fields, a small barn, and a big garage. Situated in a small rural hometown with easy access to fishing, bird hunting, running trails: It was the perfect spot.
When we moved in, we knew we had some work ahead of us. The old girl was built in 1920 and needed a little refresh. We poured our hearts into that little house – tearing up carpet, pulling down wall paneling, dry walling, sanding, painting, electrical work, new flooring, and my own personal labor of love: Refinishing the original staircase (…a task I’ve sworn to never ever do again…ever). Slowly but surely, we renovated all of the rooms in the house.
One afternoon while we were working, we heard a car door close outside. I peeked out the window to see a burgundy convertible parked across the driveway: That’s when we first met Betsy.
Betsy was our neighbor from across the field. Our new home had been her childhood home and the home of her parents for many years. We became quick friends with Betsy and her family: Sharing vegetables from the garden, stories about the house, a universal love of dogs, and details on the best local hunting and fishing spots.
They were just honest, generous, no-nonsense, “Salt of the Earth” kind of people.
With every story Betsy and her family shared about our home before it was our home, we realized just how much love that old house had harbored over the years.
We eventually welcomed two of our own babies into that home where they played in the same yard, splashed in the same stream, and dug in the same dirt that Betsy, her siblings, and her own kids did so many years before.
After living there for 5 years and finding out we were expecting a third baby, we knew we’d outgrown that sweet little house and made the tough decision to put it up for sale. As luck had it, Betsy’s son and his girlfriend (now wife) were looking for a place. After a marathon of showings by our realtor, we made the easy decision to sell it back to the family we’d bought it from – it just felt right. Like it was meant to be.
Fast forward to this past winter, Betsy reached out to me about scheduling family photos. We decided that I’d come up to Kittanning to shoot them: Back to the “promised land,” as my husband affectionately refers to it. We were originally supposed to shoot the photos in the backyard of our old home, but Betsy found a field of crimson clover off a back road that we couldn’t pass up.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little emotional on the drive up: It’s bittersweet to visit the place where we brought home our first babies, raised our first hunting dog (who has since passed – Gosh, did she love running in that back yard), and reminiscing about all the great times we had in that little community that will forever hold a little piece of our hearts! We're so lucky to still call the Sanders family our dear friends and blessed that they called me up for a visit to capture some memories for them: Complete with the newest Sanders baby! (I’m 110% sure he’ll love that backyard as much as our kiddos did!)
