When we purchased our first home in the summer of 2022, we were overjoyed. Though it came with many flaws, we fell in love with the beautiful surroundings. Lakes appeared in both the front and back of the tiny little bungalow and walking trails were just a mere blocks away. To be fair, I was hesitant, but Noah was insistent.
Our home really has an unknown origin. The “official” year of build is 1983, though we learned that was actually the year that the house was moved and placed on a foundation. Other than that, we have no actual record of how old the home is, though through a bit of poking around, we estimate that it may have been built around the 1920’s, when this style of home was built in South Minneapolis. A neighbor told us that a group of homes had been sold and disbursed around the year ours was, and that many were relocated to Prior Lake. We assume this is when our little bungalow on the lake was introduced to the town.
When we arrived, we were anything but thrilled. Our house hunting was one of the most depressing and uneventful periods, and it still makes me jealous when our friends talk about their journey of finding new homes- how many they looked at, how they got to decide what they liked through physically being in many of them, how cheap they were. We purchased this house during covid and in the eye of the housing market storm that had been brewing for a few years prior. What was once adequate to buy a 4 bedroom, 3 bath new-build in a safe neighborhood now equated to a generous 2 ½ bedroom, one bathroom dump with no air conditioning and a whole lot of work.
It has always been my dream to bring old houses to life again. Even as a child, I dreamed of creating and building spaces. Often I would draw house plans, and then spend hours upon hours in my imagination filling them with intricate designs and lavish furniture. When we walked into a home without trim, proper flooring, or any working appliances, patched together and missing essential safety components, apparently childhood Roslynn took over and we decided it was the perfect place to start our design adventure.
We were living in Edina, MN at the time of our house hunt. We had just welcomed our beautiful baby girl, Scout, into the world and we wanted to complete our picture perfect family with a home near friends and family, in a more quiet suburb south of the city. Knowing we would ultimately be moving, we found a daycare in Prior Lake. I remember driving to and from Prior Lake to Edina every day to pick up Scout from daycare, then taking the long way back to drive around and look at different houses and areas of town.
The problem was, at that time only one or two houses in our budget would become available, and they’d be snatched up in less than two or three days of going on the market. It was both heart-breaking and frustrating at the same time. We put an offer on a similar home in the middle of downtown, near a very busy roundabout and across from the liquor store. At the time we thought it might make a nice boutique later down the road. Both Noah and I being artists, we have had long term plans to open a storefront to work from and sell our art. The house lasted exactly 3 days on the market, and we were outbid by an offer of $40,000 over asking with no inspection.
We viewed homes in surrounding areas, and ultimately landed between Prior Lake and Chaska, and though we fell in love with Chaska, Prior Lake just seemed like home. We decided to keep holding out. I remember seeing our house pop up on Zillow. It was vinyl siding; a greenish gray color that we both despised. It had a wood foundation, which I had never heard of, and no central air. Though, it did have forced heat, which meant it would be less expensive to install an air conditioning system than if it had not had the ducts. Still, we weren’t optimistic as we pulled into the driveway, off what seemed like a very busy road.
I had a bad feeling in my gut, and I’ve always been one to follow it. However, one thing that I’ve learned from being with Noah for so long is that when he is right about something, he is really right. I needed to trust my husband. So I did. When we walked in, I died from the stench of whatever the hell it was that caused it. I really couldn’t place it. The room in front of me was an ugly, carpeted square with big french doors. “I can work with this,” I thought. Nothing a little lift of the carpet and TLC can’t fix.
Walking further into the house, into the smaller square kitchen, I gagged at the old crusty appliances and cheap flooring. Imagine the rusted, once white fridge that your grandfather had in the garage as a child. I didn’t want to open it for fear that the house would stink even more if I did. It didn’t even have a full set of cabinets. The cabinets that were there held hideous blue laminate countertops and a dingy sink atop them. There was no dishwasher. There were no waterlines. It was trash. The next room, the living room, was where I began to see the vision. Large, almost floor to ceiling windows illuminated the rooms with natural sunlight, and a tray ceiling. An arch separated the room from the hallway, which led to two small bedrooms and a humble bathroom.
There was a set of narrow stairs that led to a loft, complete with mothballs and traces of mice. Everything needed to be fixed. The door on top of the stairs opened to an unfinished, possibly dangerous closet that we still refer to as the creepy room. And I still refuse to set foot in there. There was a decent sized walk in closet, and though it was as ugly as the rest of the house, I found it to be promising. We went to the basement and barely made it down using the crickety old stairs that were pieced together with common nails, all but hanging by a fringe from the wall. I still have PTSD and refused to go down there until recently, when Noah replaced them.
The walls were sheetrocked, though painfully obvious that it was an amateur job, and I worried they might be hiding something that the homeowners did not want us to be aware of. Yet, it was promising that it could maybe, someday, become livable. Our final stop was the backyard. As we opened the rotted french doors and stepped out onto the deck which was in similar condition, our eyes opened. Beyond the makeshift chicken wire fence and heavily overgrown plant vegetation, we saw a large backyard with a view of Upper Prior. And on one side of that yard, a perfect, unobstructed view of Spring Lake. “Oh fuck it, let’s do it,” I said to Noah. The least we could do is put an offer in and see what happens. We put in an offer for exactly the asking price, $300,000 and our offer was accepted the next day
I vividly remember picking Scout up from daycare and taking the long way to drive past our newly purchased home before it became official. I was so excited to begin our life there, and I imagined what it would feel like to drive on that road everyday on my way home from work, and eventually be able to turn into the driveway. We patiently waited the two months before closing, talking about the things we wanted to do or vaguely remembered about the walkthrough. Move in day, however, was a bit different.
When I signed on the line that meant I was now $300,000 more in debt, on top of the already crippling $100,000 Noah and I had mutually accumulated on student loans, my stomach dropped. Immediately my excitement turned to anxiety, and I was terrified when I walked in for the first time as the official homeowner. “Now what?” Noah said to me smiling, though I think equally as nervous. “I guess we start,” I replied.
Almost four years later we are still fixing. Though now we have made significant progress and have learned a lot along the way. We’ve gone from first-time homebuyer newbies to a couple of regular ole’ DIYers, plumbers, carpenters, landscapers and more. Our nerves have calmed, and we are starting to see the fruits of our labor materialize. We’ve got many more projects in the works, and we’ve decided to take the next step in sharing our journey.
My name is Roslynn Audetat Berkeland. I, my husband, Noah, and our four year old daughter, Scout live in a fixer-upper, bungalow style cottage situated between Upper Prior and Spring Lake. This is our story, and we can’t wait to share it with you.
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