We searched for years making long drives on weekends looking for a retirement "country" place. We saw an ad in a "land" real estate book and took another weekend drive. The property had a rusted crooked front gate that looked like the previous owner might have been a drunk with no brakes. There were no structures the fences were in shambles. The gate opened to a muddy road which we did not attempt and a field of thorny bushes (mesquite). As I was walking to the back of the property I noticed the black gumbo had turned to sand, the mesquite turned to magnificent oak trees, and I was walking slightly uphill. I turned around and could see the hills up to 10 miles away. As chills ran through my body my thought:
"This is the place I will die."
That was 15 years ago and our retirement house is right where I turned around on that hill.