I guess I've always wanted to build a house on the hill.

Back in the day, Paul, Karen and I built a treefort up there. I'd cross-country ski straight down the steep rock. Each spring, we'd be up on the hill to pick some of Great-great-grandma's feral rhubarb. Or to find a Christmas tree. Or to sit there and look out. I like living in the city, but this land has always been my home as well.

The Perkins' originally bought this farm in 1861 from William White for £300.0.0. It has changed hands within the family a number of times since then.

The ruins of a house these scary-looking relatives lived in are still visible near the new building site. When they weren't busy tormenting Anne of Green Gables they where farming poor farmland, carrying water up from the creek, tending to horses, cattle and other farm animals. It was a difficult life, or so I'm told. Even the dog had to pull his own weight, by running a treadmill to churn the butter.

During the summer of 2001 I decided to build a place. My Grandparents currently live near the building site, so I'll be spending some time with them this summer.