We're going for it!

Part insanity, part history, part roof over our heads, we have decided to take on the project of restoring the 125-year-old farmhouse that has been in Bob's family since shortly after the Great Thumb fire of 1881. It received its last facelift in 1929.

Yeah, we have a lot to do.

Bob and I are country people, suckers for the draw of family and history, so although this may possibly be the craziest plot we have yet developed, it is our plot.

And it thickens.

The Great Thumb Fire of 1881 wasn't the only one to ravage the area. A decade earlier, another one tore through the Thumb, brought on at the same time and by the same conditions as the Great Chicago Fire of 1871 — minus Mrs. O'Leary's cow, of course.

If you're wondering what the heck a Thumb is and why I'd capitalize it, think of the shape of Michigan as a mitten. We live in the thumb. And we're a proud people, so it's The Thumb.

Most of this area was left charred, but somehow a large section of maple woods was spared. That is the family sugarbush, where the family has been making maple syrup since 1882.

Those maple trees have charmed five generations so far. Addy says she has two favorite places in the world. One is my parents' dairy and cash crop farm. The other is the maple woods.

I can't imagine anything better than raising our children at the edge of the woods, with barns (though having seen better days) in which to raise some 4-H animals. We'll be just down the road from grandma and grandpa. Our neighbors will be cattle, corn fields and Amish families. There's one English neighbor (that's what the Amish call the rest of us) across the way, and it's nothing less than thrilling that they have a couple of homeschooled kids just a little older than ours.

We have been town people for nearly 5 years, but the country is where we grew up and where we belong. If you know me well at all, you know that my requirement is to be able to walk to the mailbox in my underwear. Doesn't work so well in the city limits.

Maybe we've been reading too much A.A. Milne and Laura Ingalls Wilder, but we are charmed by the appeal of The Hundred Acre Wood and The Little House everywhere.

I know, it sounds charming now. Wait until we're knee deep in plaster and paint. Ask us how charming it is then.

Until then, we're gathering bids to see just how costly this plot will be.