Why We Love our House: The View

Two months after fixing myriad plumbing, electrical, drywall, foundation, insulation, garage and yard issues, we're finally ready to start making this house our home. We are officially moving in this Saturday!

Ashley and I wanted to quick say "Happy Holidays" to all our fabulous readers and share one last blog post prior to what should be an eventful week of furiously prepping and cleaning our mess of a house before Saturday ...

When we first put down an offer on our home, I received a humorous email from an old high school friend. She, too, had looked at the house on Westwood several months prior and had loved it. She and her husband had even contacted a contractor to bid out the project, but decided to move-on from the house at the last second after finding another home that needed immediate action to purchase. Nevertheless, my high school friend still thought highly of the home and mentioned that she had absolutely loved the view.

Despite visiting the house multiple times, I had no idea what she was talking about. I suppose we had a pretty forest on one side of the house and around lunch time each day, one might amusingly watch a gang of fifteen or so wild turkeys saunter about our yard ... but I wouldn't necessarily categorize those as views to write home about. Unless, of course, the turkeys started to fight our scurry of squirrels ala West Side Story.

So I quizzically said to her, "What view?" She replied," Didn't you see? Go look out your master bedroom window." So I did and was completely floored. There in front of me, right above where our future bed will be, is a bird's eye view of the Minneapolis skyline. Seeing that view for the first time, was like seeing all the presents under the Christmas tree for the first time. It's not too often you get to feel the innocence and awe of a kid in a candy store, but at that moment, I certainly did.

This house has many neat eccentricities and quirks, but the view just might be my favorite. We wish you a joyful holiday season and God Bless!

"There's nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child." - Erma Bombeck

Bookmas Eve

Heads Up: This is not an actual house related post but, it’s pretty important (to me) which is why I’m sharing this with you.

Note to all potential parents: if your kid is born 10 days before or after Christmas, make up a different birthday (preferably a day in the summer).

Those of you with birthdays between December 15 and January 4 know EXACTLY what I’m talking about, in fact, I guarantee you are smiling right now because you already know the thing I’m about to bring up.

The dreaded “Merry Christmas/ Happy Birthday” present.

Yes, these items actually exist.

As a kid, these gifts are pretty easy to spot by knowing the three types of combination presents to watch for:

• When at a specifically Christmas family function, you see a present wrapped in birthday balloon paper. Total combo gift. 
• A few days before or after your day of birth (depending on when Christmas is in relation to your birthday) you receive a gift in the mail covered in Santa Clause wrapping paper. The timing is key as the gift acts as a belated/early birthday gift and Christmas present (which is ALWAYS pointed out in the card). 
• And a gift wrapped in both birthday and Christmas wrapping (even a novice can pick this out of a lineup- major props to those that could pull this off).

Packages hidden beneath sheets of wintery images are tricky (think snowmen, holly & berries, poinsettias) as they could contain either. However, the dead giveaway is usually the size of the tag on front and if there is enough room to write a combo greeting or not.

But I can one-up all of you. My whole life, I was unlucky enough to receive the absolute WORST gift to a kid under the age of 16 (because after 16, people stop sending you stuff all together):

The “Merry Christmas/Happy Birthday Brooke & Ashley” present. 

Super cute vintage photo (I'm the one in the blue)

SIDE NOTE: My sister, Brooke, had the opportunity to meet one of our favorite authors, Sarah Vowell (essayist, voice of Violet in “The Incredibles”) a few years ago, who is also a twin with a holiday birthday. The two immediately connected over this exact topic. As a result, Ms. Vowell inscribed the following message on the inside cover of Brooke's copy of  The Partly Cloudy Patriot:

Merry Christmas/Happy Birthday Brooke & Ashley

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA

-Sarah Vowell

As if I didn’t already have an identity complex having a clone growing up, now I couldn’t even have one day to call my own.

So why am I relaying all this information to you? Because it explains the new holiday I now celebrate (thanks to my husband): The 12 Days of Bookmas.

The first year we celebrated Christmas as a married couple, Josh felt that everyone should be excited about their birthday, even if it did fall close to the holidays. So he brainstormed a way to celebrate Christmas AND my birthday in a totally unique way.

Thus “The Twelve Days of Bookmas” was born.

This new and sadly not formally recognized holiday combines two of my favorite things (books and the holidays) with something I normally disregard (my birthday) to make the final product an EPIC EVENT!

So tomorrow, on December 22, Bookmas begins. Each day, for the next 12 days I receive a book-related gift. While I always receive a nice assortment of reading material, past gifts also include small book-related things like bookmarks or a bag of peanut M&M's (my fave) to consume while reading.

I am literally bouncing at my computer as I type these words, unable to control my excitement this Bookmas Eve. It sure makes approaching 30 (which Brooke and I will turn on January 2) more fun.

If I woke up to this on Bookmas morning, I would probably faint from happiness.

Snowstorms, Bad Ideas and a Sneak Peek

The past weekend, we got hit with our first official snowstorm of the season. And while Josh and I were excited to see how beautiful the house would look with a few inches of fluffy white stuff, we definitely were not prepared for the whopping 16 inches that fell in Saint Louis Park.

So on Sunday, while most people had made soup, curled up in front of the television and sworn off driving for the day, Josh had the brilliant idea to move some of our stuff into the new house.

This was a very, very bad idea.

First, it took us 20 minutes to get our cars free from all the snow in the parking lot. And then we realized Josh's boots were (where else) already packed and sitting in the basement of our new house. Determined to show Mother Nature her pesky flakes could not weaken our resolve, we packed both our cars and headed over to the new place.

For those of you unfamiliar with our home, it sits atop a hill - giving us a phenomenal view of downtown Minneapolis (especially at night). Like Shel Silverstein's Giving Tree, this beautiful hill also gave us a valuable insight: the tires on Josh's car suck. And as hard as those tires tried, they couldn't get him up the hill and to the driveway.

I managed to get my trusty Honda close enough to the driveway so I could trudge through our snowy driveway and get Josh his snow gear. Josh, unfortunately, had to go park his car at the gas station (that is at least four blocks away) and WALK back up the hill and up to the house.

As soon as we got into our garage, we received another surprise: the snow shovel was missing (yes, the one we used to remove our raccoon earlier) and the newly tuned-up snowblower had no gasoline. Awesome.

So we "cleared" a tiny path up the driveway to the house with push brooms, determined to move our crap into the basement. As we sat there, knee deep in snow and with no gloves (because we're both winners and forgot them) Josh looks at me and says "So on a scale of 1 to 10, how much do you hate me right now?"

I kept on sweeping and calmly replied "oh, about a 14, give or take." We laughed. We couldn't stop laughing because, that's all you can do when you're in the middle of a really bad idea.

But here is the good news: we have some exciting sneak peeks for everyone below!

Not Our First Rodeo

When we decided to put an offer down on our house, one of the first questions our realtor asked us was "have you two ever attempted a remodeling project as a couple before?"  For couples that have not experienced this, you may be curious as to the relevance of this question. But if you've even so much as painted a room with your partner, the legitimacy of this inquiry could not be more important. It doesn't matter how much you plan or how many times you watched that YouTube video showing how easy it is, something always goes wrong. And sometimes, the unthinkable happens.

Dear readers, do you remember our nightmare of having our contractor resign after we had put an offer on our house? Would you believe this wasn't the worst thing that has happened to us in the middle of a project? Prepare to be amazed my friends, as we reminisce about our first home remodeling fiasco.

In the summer of 2011, we decided that our condo needed some major upgrades, especially the kitchen. Low and behold, our culinary space pre-renovation.

 

Our original plan was to simply replace the crappy laminate counter-top and paint the walls. This was a rookie mistake. Because walking into a kitchen or bathroom or any other room besides a closet with a plan renovate ONE thing falls victim to the inevitable snowball effect. Once we decided to replace the counters, we realized the existing cabinets would look even worse next to some brand new granite so those had to be replaced. And then you look at the new nice cabinets, granite counter tops and reluctantly agree that the appliances from 1979 just have to go too.

We thought we had some luck on our side, however, and could use our friend Chuck as our contractor. Not only does he do fantastic work, but he agreed to give us the "friend and family discount." So, we ordered new cabinets to be installed by Chuck and his son that Monday. 

And over the weekend, Chuck got hit by a truck. 

On his motorcycle. 

Not. 

Kidding. 

(Before you all freak out, Chuck lived and made a complete recovery, minus some scars and swearing off motorcycles for life).  

But that left us with an empty kitchen. And cabinets filling up our living room for two weeks. 

We managed to find another contractor on short notice, but that meant doing the demolition and minor stuff ourselves. And this is where it gets even more fun.

For starters, the week we decided to start our project was one of the hottest weeks here in Minneapolis on record. In fact, it hit 100 degrees twice between Monday and Thursday. If you recall your world news from 2011, Japan was still reeling from a devastating tsunami in March which, in turn, caused a shortage of wall-mounted air-conditioning units across the United States. And the week prior to our renovation, both of our units decided to die.

Boys and girls, this is what you resort to when it's 100 degrees in your second floor unit: you prop up a fan and attempt to steal the slightly cooler air in the shared hallway (spoiler: it doesn't work). On the third day when temperatures surpassed 100, I called Josh at work and told him I would be staying at the Homewood Suites in the West End for the night and he was welcome to join me as I had absolutely no intention of sleeping in our crowded, sweltering condo another night.

The day before the crew was to arrive to install the new cabinets, we needed to rip out the old ones and completely turn off the water source. What was supposed to be a simple three-step process took three hours and six trips to Home Depot.

See that gross bucket? It is catching the slow but persistent leak that took us HOURS to locate and stop. We learned a valuable lesson that evening: buy one of everything in the "plumbing" aisle and return the stuff you don't use. It doesn't matter how many times you measure or read the existing parts, you will always end up with the wrong stuff.

Over the next few days, we installed the cabinets, the new granite tiles for the counter and the fancy schmancy backsplash. Josh even learned how to grout (on YouTube of course) and that was the ONE thing that actually went right the first time. And here is the end result:

 

So, when Shelly asked us if this house was our first project as a married couple, we smiled and politely replied "let's just say, this isn't our first rodeo." 

A Terrible Secret

I'm about to reveal a secret only two people on this planet can attest to (my husband and my sister):

I am the world's WORST bathroom sharer.

When it comes to bathroom transgressions, I am a repeat offender with little chance of rehabilitation. Offenses include:

• I take ridiculously long showers and bubble baths. We're talking a minimum of 30 minutes. 
• I never cap the toothpaste. Never. And it leaks all over the drawer or counter. 
• I don't close caps on mouthwash, nail polish remover, etc, so that if touched, all contents spill. 
• I shed. A lot. My hair is everywhere. And I make no apologies for this. 
• I leave everything on the counter so I can easily find it. Why put it away if I know I'm going to use it again tomorrow?

And then there is the Moby Dick of all bathroom sharing sins: if I can't find my toothbrush (or am simply too lazy to look for mine amidst my items scattered across the counter) I will use the first one I find.

(Cue: gagging sounds and groans of complete disgust).

I tell you this, dear reader, so you will understand that when Josh and I first looked at this house, his immediate concern was the singular bathroom. I mean, if your toothbrush was in a constant state of jeopardy, you would be preoccupied with this fact as well.

Our realtor assured us that a solution was upstairs: a roughed in master bathroom.

Let me start by saying, even our contractor wasn't quite sure what the "plan" was supposed to be for this space. From the doorway, you can see the weirdly constructed shower (complete with illegal electrical wiring).

 

Instead of taking advantage of the sloped walls in the back, drywall was being erected to create a flat surface and wasting square feet in an already small space. 

 The plumbing was routed so that the toilet appeared to be positioned in the middle of room.

So we (and by "we," I mean our contractor and his team) went to work ripping out the existing plans and redesigning a more functional space.

 

Now when you walk into the bathroom, the first thing you'll see is the soaking tub (yes, you will have to use your imagination to see our vision as it's pretty rough right now). 

To the left of the soaking tub will be the new walk in shower (with cut out shelves because I have two different shampoos and two different conditioners alone).

The center of the space will be for the vanity (with EXTRA counter space) and a toilet in the back left corner. Again, use your imagination people.

We spent some time over the past weekend picking out tile for the space. If we can pull it off, I CANNOT WAIT to share photos of the completed "after" photos!!

Going Behind the Walls

When my sister and I were eight years old, we unearthed the most fantastic discovery any child our age could think of: a secret passageway.

In the basement of my grandparent's house was a closet filled with some of my grandma's old dresses, gloves and purses from the 60's and 70's. One day, while playing hide and seek, Brooke crawled into the closet per usual (it was either there or behind the couch, not exactly an ideal space for the game). I pulled open the door, ready to claim victory but she was nowhere to be seen.

Perplexed, I poked my head inside when I heard her giggling. I ventured in, crawling on my hands and knees through the corridor. As I approached daylight, I could see Brooke smiling at me from inside a place I had never seen: the laundry room.

The realization of our own wardrobe to Narnia was about as epic as it gets. We tested out the passageway a few more times before swearing ourselves to secrecy; not even our cousins could know about our new world.

Many years later, I was disappointed to realize that our secret passageway was simply a two sided closet, with doors on both ends. However, that feeling of discovery was forever etched in my memory as one of the happiest moments of my childhood.

As an adult, however, going behind the walls of a newly purchased home is anything but exciting. Yet here we stood, looking at our basement. 

First, let's call a spade a spade: painting a creepy space "afternoon sunshine yellow" does not fool anybody. In fact, it actually highlights the scariness. Second, putting particle board up on the walls and affixing random construction signs isn't exactly what HGTV meant when they said "Industrial style."

With all the water damage, we knew we had to tear this place down to the bones. But the potential nightmare was what we could uncover beneath the walls. Mold was easy; but a damaged foundation or significant asbestos could deplete our entire contingency fund.

Honestly though, what could be worse than this "homework" area? I mean, sure, it would guarantee the fastest assignment completion time in a 50-mile radius, but you would probably also contract some form of tetanus within ten minutes of sitting there. So, we took the plunge and ripped it all down.

 

Our house surprised us: no major disasters behind the walls! Of course, our neighbors probably think this was the scene of a meth lab as we do have a giant "RADON REMOVAL" truck sitting in our front yard. Yes, we have some mold to eradicate and radon contamination (common in older homes), but overall, things are in good shape!

Eventually this will be a rec area and a real basement (with a wine cellar, because that's how we roll) but don't expect that for at least a decade. For now we're going to keep it empty and I'll use it as a workout area. Because who needs LA Fitness with their calming taupe paint and floor to ceiling glass when I have a dungeon with my own personal egress window and dirty brick? : )

Taming the Jungle

Remember that lovely story about how my mother got me a beautiful bamboo plant for college and I managed to kill it? Well, for our anniversary this year, Josh gave me a lovely stalk of bamboo to keep at my desk to remind me of him (awwwwww, how sweet!). I followed the directions exactly, placing it snuggly in a jar of pebbles and watered it lightly.

My bamboo plant...before I killed it.

I am (sadly) here to report that my skills as a plant killer are at their peak condition, despite several years of inactivity. Apparently I have a knack for figuring out how to murder even the strongest of the flora kingdom. I could be the villain in a totally lame comic book series about a green thumb avenger. 

Yes. My bamboo is dead. It fought bravely against my powers of destruction for a total of 42 days.

Funny enough, last weekend at our house was similar to the aforementioned comic book plot; a gang of plant destroyers ascending on an unsuspecting landscape with a caped crusader (Terri) fighting off the evil forces with nothing but a pair of gardening shears to save as many civilians as she could.

A group of guys from Josh's choir showed up bright and early with chainsaws, trucks and work gloves to help us remove all that we could of the seriously overgrown landscape.  Josh and his team swept through the yard, cutting down trees and pulling out shrubs.

The work begins early Sunday morning.

Hooking up some chains to some of the big trees and pulling them out of the garden.

Terri was kind enough to look past my criminal past and teach me about the existing plants in our gardens. We pruned some Russian Sage and located Hostas around the yard. She tamed the gigantic prickly thorny things out front and helped me remove TONS of baby trees that had taken over most of the garden beds.

But after a few trees/shrubs were down, we realized that we needed some professional help. Naturally, we set our sights on a 3,000 pound wood chipper and took Jimmy's van into Plymouth to pick up our beast. Our resident turkeys were not happy with all the noise and disruption, voicing their disapproval loudly as they strutted through the yard (moving much more quickly once the wood chipper was turned on). With only 90 minutes to pulverize the remnants of our yard, the guys went into hyper-drive.

Hooking up the wood chipper!

Feeding the beast!!

Can't believe all the brush/trees we cut down!

So without further ado, here are the coveted "Before" and "After" photos.

BEFORE

Front of the house before we started work.

Front/Side of the house before we tackled the yard.

And AFTER!!!!

All clean!!!!!!!!

Thank you again to everyone who came out last weekend to help us clean. From my parents and aunt Sandy, to Josh's parents and all the choir guys who showed up on a chilly Sunday to tame this yard. We can't thank you enough for your hard work- we could not have done it without you!!!!

Little Critters: Part 2

As you recall, we had a brief house guest that decided to make the attic in our carriage house his final resting place. This past Friday, our friendly neighborhood heat inspector confirmed our suspicions: we were (not proud) owners of a dead raccoon.

Determined to keep the smell from permeating the walls and other areas of the building, Josh and my Dad embarked on a quest to remove our furry friend using nothing but a face mask, snow shovel and leaf bag from Menards.

There are no words that can accurately describe the scene at our home just a few short days ago. As such, I tried to document their journey in photos (this was despite having to leaving the premise several times due to the smell and proceeding to gag like Dee in that one episode of "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia").

 

 

 

Closing Time

Nothing with this house purchase has been easy as we documented last month. Despite having all of our paperwork turned in a couple weeks ago, we've been dealing with a couple tricky conditions. My personal favorite was figuring out how to process the title for a home that:

1) Is currently owned by Bank of America, who ...

2) ... made U.S. Bank the trustee of the property, who ...

3) ... assigned Power of Attorney to Wells Fargo.

Suddenly I understand why we had a housing crisis and why banks aren't trusted! 

So while Ashley and I have been nervously awaiting these loose ends to be tied, we were getting subtle warnings from our lender that the closing just might be delayed. And based on the trials and tribulations of the last 90 days, why wouldn't it!?! 

However, we finally received the email we've been eagerly waiting for and we're FINALLY good to go! Wish us luck tomorrow, because it's closing time!

The Wheelbarrow

It was a crazy weekend here at the Williams house. The most exciting part: we are now aunt and uncle to a beautiful baby girl, Sydney Marie!!!

(I didn’t get a chance to see her at the hospital, but we’re hoping to make a trip out to see our niece next weekend. However, this is probably a good thing since I’m petrified of babies in general. I have this ridiculous fear that I will pick them up and their still squishy heads will fall off and roll across the floor).

We made our first official “new house” purchase this weekend: a wheelbarrow. You know you’re an adult when buying yard equipment is a big event. Kind of like getting a new vacuum for Christmas and being as giddy as an eleven year old girl who got a Justin Bieber bedspread.

As we sat in the outdoor section of the local Home Depot I asked Josh, “Are you sure this will fit in the car.”

“Of course,” he smiled as we rolled our new purchase to the check out.

We got to the car and opened the trunk. Not even halfway and the thing gets stuck.

So we open the door to the back seat and slid the metal contraption inside. Now the door wouldn’t shut because of the handles.

“Well, we’re only a few miles from the house...,”

Somehow, the next sentence or two convinced me to crawl in the backseat with our new purchase and hold the car door shut as we drove over to our place. 

 
I now understand what a dog feels like when he walks around with one of those medical cones with everyone staring at you, openly laughing while feeling bad for taking pleasure in your misfortune. That was us.

I think we need a bigger car.

Me and my orange friend.

Little Critters

As a kid, one of my favorite parts of holidays was the day we got to take out the giant box of Christmas books (in case you weren’t aware, my obsession with books and reading started at a very early age). One of my favorites was called “The Biggest Most Beautiful Christmas Tree.” The story chronicles the residents of a great fir tree in the forest and their quest to decorate their tree so Santa can find them. Brooke and I adored all the characters, from Mr. and Mrs. Fieldmouse, to Old Gray Acorn (the squirrel), to the chipmunk children (Nina and Nutley) and wished our dear friends from the story could one day live with us!

Aunt Mim, you are my favorite!

25 years later, it seems God finally got around to answering my prayer.

Last weekend, Josh and I stopped at the house to drop off our second hand treasures and take inventory of all the projects that needed to be completed. We got up into the man cave (which is quite awesome and will have its own post soon) when we noticed a sound above us no homeowner ever wants to hear:

******* scratch scratch- scamper scamper scamper *******

Upon walking outside to the back of the carriage house, we see that the previous owners left a gaping hole between the roof and the siding. Either we have a very fat squirrel or a petite raccoon. And with the cool weather we've been having, a warm, protected and unoccupied roof is like a free stay at the Ritz Carlton for woodland creatures.

We wished our new friend a happy stay but warned him that in two weeks, we would be evicting him if he did not find another suitable living arrangement (and by that, we meant in a tree in the yard or the nature preserve across the road). And this week, I had every intention of using this week’s blog post as an open letter to our squatter.

But all that changed yesterday afternoon. We brought our good friends, Corey and Monica to take a brief tour of the house (kudos to them for seeing the beauty in it since there is no heat, no water and spider webs in every corner you look at). When we made it out to the man cave, Corey asked if he could open the closet door. We laughed and said yes, but not to disturb our house guest inside.

Well, that door opened and holy hell, the smell emitting from that space was, how do I put it, other worldly.

WARNING- next section is not suitable to read before or immediately after eating.

It seems our forest friend got into some trouble and either tried to chew his way through the insulation or simply figured fiberglass cotton candy was a suitable dietary supplement. It appears that he lost control of his bowels and freakin’ died somewhere in the roof.

This is disgusting and yet, completely hilarious. I’m laughing as I write this because neither of us were actually shocked upon discovering a dead animal in our house. We are so immune to all the craziness this place keeps presenting to us that I am humanly incapable of being surprised anymore by our house.

So if anyone sees a Groupon for an exterminator or heavy-duty house cleaning service between now and the 25th of October, let me know.

There is no shame in Dumpster Diving

I need to take a minute to apologize to our dear readers. Ashley and I haven't been honest with you. We've got a deep, dark secret to tell and it isn't pretty. Here goes …

… we're not below dumpster diving. There, I said it. Are you happy now?

Perhaps it's because we're both first borns* and never had the luxury of receiving all the cool toys and clothes we didn't want anymore, but hand-me-downs are a bit of a foreign concept for we of the privileged progeny. Was playing with Micro Machines and X-Men figures really that bad, Abby? Was my vintage Joe Montana jersey that ill-fitting, Marie?

So imagine poor Ashley and I this weekend, when based on our siblings’ less-than-stellar commentary on the validity of “well loved,” we ventured into the realm of free, recycled goods. Would these goods have giant holes or scratches? Would paint be chipped and motors broken? How would we know? We always had to get the new stuff and boy was it rough.

Well you know what? Our sisters are a bunch of fibbers! Free hand-me-downs rock!

Ashley searching for our next treasure!

My co-worker, Joel, was downsizing from a house to an apartment and allowed us to take whatever we wanted from his garage, as long as we helped him move. When the garage door opened, we were welcomed to a veritable treasure trove of yard implements and power tools … a lawnmower, a snow blower, shovels, rakes, gardening equipment, power sanders, weed whip, extension cords, hoses and even a tree trimmer. It was a glorious bounty, fit for any young couple on a tight budget and we were the winners of this freebie bonanza! 

But our story doesn't end there … oh no. After dropping off our “new-to-us” toys and heading home, Ashley and I witnessed what can only be described as a golden beam of light piercing through the cool, crisp morning air. “Stop the minivan, Josh! Do you see? Do you see?” Ashley proclaimed. “Yes, my love. It is absolutely beautiful and it is free,” I responded.

There before us was a dining room table, discarded with nary a scratch. And as fate would have it, my mom lent us her minivan to pick-up all Joel’s lawn equipment and now we had a vehicle big enough to stake claim to this table constructed of fine craftsmanship and whatever sort of wood they make tables with in Malaysia.

Needless to say, we will never listen to our sisters ever again regarding their toils and hardships of being born after us. Free, recycled goods are awesome and saved us oodles of money we can now spend on wine … I mean … the laundry list of remodeling projects that is our house.

* Did you know first borns are smarter than their generally less intelligent younger siblings. No lie, science says so! Sorry Brooke, Marie and Abby ... we still are proud of you despite your limitations!

Why We Love our House: Westwood Hills Nature Preserve

We often get the question: if you call this your "Little House of Horrors," why are you so in love with the property? Well, like any good fixer-upper, we see a ton of potential in our house. It just needs A LOT of attention to reach that potential. But another reason we love the house, is it has several really neat qualities you simply don't find in just any old property. In what will be a reoccurring series, we'll lay out some of these unique traits ... mostly to remind our parents we have a method to our madness.

As the title of our blog suggests, our property is located on Westwood Hills Road, which as coincidence would have it, is across the street from the Westwood Hills Nature Preserve, a 160-acre natural area featuring marsh, woods and restored prairie. After living in St. Louis Park for five years, we didn't even know the place existed as it's fairly nondescript and hidden. If you're familiar with the St. Louis Park area, it's directly southeast of 169 and 394, behind all of those car dealerships.

Recently, we decided to check it out and were greatly surprised by what we found.

There is a huge lake in the center of the preserve where you
can rent canoes or kayaks and paddle around. 

Around the lake is a boardwalk trail approximately 1.5 miles long.
Ashley loves running on it because of the lack of people and the
fact she can look at beautiful scenery the entire jog. 

A ton of birds, ducks and geese stop here on their migratory
patterns. We walked right by them and they didn't even quack
at us. I guess we're not very imposing figures.

When we walk around the preserve, it is impossible not to
run into an abundance of wildlife including deer, frogs and ...

... the infamous wild turkeys! Who wants in on Thanksgiving
at the Williams on Westwood? 

There is also a nature center with tons and tons of family
programming that takes place on the grounds. Everything
from learning about bees and waterfowl, to art camp and a
Halloween trail. There's also a pretty sweet outdoor
playground complete with a rock-climbing area. 

We have been taking walks around the preserve a couple times a week and absolutely love it! Feel free to join us anytime and perhaps we'll find you Thanksgiving dinner as well!