When I sought out a quiet place to retreat, Lucas Farmhouse fit the bill.
Secluded? Check.
Instagram worthy? Check.
Looks like a cross between Rory Gilmore’s house and the house from Practical Magic?
Check mate.
I was only looking for a place to crash for the night, and after browsing Airbnb, I came across the farmhouse. Thanks to an Airbnb gift card I got from my friend Katie for my birthday, I booked. The house was secluded, and just a short ten minute drive from downtown Wilmington.
Amy, my host, greeted me at the front door. She immediately handed me a sparkly, bubbly pink with a vibrant, colorful straw. Later, as she gave me a tour around the house, she admitted she hadn’t been sure if I was old enough to drink.
The home was like something out of a story. A large banister, spacious porch. Quilts draped over cushy beds, stacks of books, and lots of places to curl up and read. I sat out on the porch at dusk, rocking on the metal swing ever so slightly.
Working through some personal goals, I journaled in the upstairs bedroom, lying on the spacious couch. I soaked in the claw foot tub and read The Four Agreements. I mostly enjoyed the time to myself, with the soundtrack of soft, chirping birds in the background.
The house was surrounded by woods. Deep, thick woods reminiscent of my favorite Robert Frost poem. The morning I left, I took I barefoot walk around the backyard, carefully navigating through puddles. A significant storm had swept through that morning, heavy rain that woke me up around six AM.
Everything was damp. A rope swing hung from one of the tallest trees, the swing that Amy recommended I try before I leave.
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“Do it for your ten-year-old self,” she encouraged as I nibbled on the bacon and eggs she made me for breakfast.
Drifty Rank: 9/10 Stevie Nicks songs.