A short history of Camp Muncie (if I don't ramble too much!)

Two questions that first-time visitors to our house often ask...

• "How did you find this place?"
• "Have you named it?" Then, before we can explain, "Why Camp Muncie?"

Answer to Question 1....

By pure chance -- and lots of luck!

We had been looking at houses for the past month, and had thought we'd found "The One" -- a charming '50s rambler with a large, wooded lot and an attached garage that had been converted into a rec room. Since Janie has lots of experience with a wide range of DIY projects, the prospect of renovating a fixer-upper that needed quite a bit of fixing up was a bit daunting -- but not enough to scare us off. What did break the deal, though, was the fact that the utilities had been turned off for an unknown length of time. No utilities, no home inspection -- at least, no possibility of a comprehensive, accurate inspection. Since we already knew that the house needed a new roof and a complete kitchen remodel, we opted not to take our chances on possible repair or replacement of heating and plumbing systems. We wouldn't have known one way or the other until after we'd bought the place and had the utilities turned back on.

By this time, our real estate agent knew what we were looking for: a ranch or bungalow with "character," with a good-sized lot and plenty of mature trees. So she got online and did a search for similar houses in our price range on the northside of Indy -- specifically, Washington Township. The following weekend, we visited four houses: an adorable ranch with vaulted ceilings and a fireplace, a house in a neighborhood with "character and personality," another house in a not-so-desirable neighborhood (no problem with crime, just a bit run-down and prone to flooding), and a riverfront house that I'd seen online but ruled out because it was pink and because the image used with the MLS listing made the place look like a trailer.

We both liked House #1, but were hesitant about it sitting so close to a relatively busy two-lane road. House #2 was so unappealing from the outside that we didn't even go in. House #3 was nice, but not in the right neighborhood for us.

And House #4, the pink "trailer"? Love at first sight.

That was before we'd even pulled into the driveway. To get to the actual driveway, you have to go down a long, gravel drive shared by people living in six different houses; at the bottom of the main drive, it splits into several forks. With it being the beginning of March, the area was rather sparse-looking -- but we knew that come spring, the tall and wide trees would supply canopy after canopy of beautiful greenery. Things got better when we pulled into the driveway and saw, not a pink "trailer" but a brown house with beautiful cedar siding, a large shed with matching siding, a charming cobblestone path, nicely-arranged yucca plants and shrubs, several garden areas, and a few well-placed trees.

One of us -- I can't remember who -- said at this point, "I think this is our house!"

Once we walked in, and saw the plank-style hardwood floors and beautifully-done pine trim in the spacious and airy kitchen, we both enthusiastically decided that we would make an offer. With each room we entered -- the living room with its cedar planks along the ceiling and nice view of the river and its rocky banks, the bathroom with its sauna-style walls, and the middle room with its large built-in bookcase -- we found ourselves more enamored by the minute.

Don't get me wrong -- we also made note of several "fixes" that would need to be made. But unlike the house we'd considered previously, these were more cosmetic and functional than anything else. That nasty pink, which it turned out was only on the parts of the house closest to the river, could be painted. Cheapo-basic appliances, fixtures, and cabinets could be replaced. Missing steps off the sliding-glass door could be built.

We had found our dream house. Even more inviting was its paradoxically out-of-the-way, yet in-the-middle-of-everything location and setting. Unless you've specifically been directed down that long, gravel drive, you would never know that there's an enclave of eight riverfront cottages sitting within walking distance of an upscale shopping mall and satellite stores, and equally well-kept houses and condos sitting along what looks like a country road. And this is all within the Indianapolis city limits; by the way, Indianapolis is the 12th largest city in the country.

Answer to Question 2....

After learning more about the house, and about cottage culture in general, we decided that the house needed a name. While mulling a few generic, bordering on cheesy, possibilities...all of which included the word "cottage"...I abruptly, and a bit self-consciously, mumbled "Camp Muncie". Janie, who was driving and had her attention on the road, asked me what I'd just said. More confidently, I repeated "Camp Muncie. A name...for the house!" Janie then said, "Yeah! I like that! Camp Muncie!" And I said, "That's it, Camp Muncie. That's the name of our house!"

To fully appreciate the name "Camp Muncie," you would need to know that Janie and I are both Ball State grads, that we were there in the late '80s when both the university and the surrounding neighborhoods had a certain enchantingly "underachieving, yet sentimentally lovable and full-of-character-and-personality" aura about them. Just like the house. Mind you, our house is a far cry from the run-down, often chaotically-divided house-apartments we'd both lived in during our student days -- but the house has enough of that aura of "possibilities" that's reminiscent of off-campus houses in Muncie that the name fits, and fits proudly.

We haven't done all that much with the house in the year and a half that we've lived here -- but we have painted over that yucky Pepto-Bismol pink with a much more flattering hunter green. It looks so much nicer from the river; we do get plenty of traffic from small fishing boats, jet skis, canoes, kayaks, and the occasional pontoon boat.

Here's the "before and after":


As you can see, we still need to finish painting the trim -- but at least the place looks a lot more respectable for the folks cruising up and down the river. And, of course, for us!

This, by the way, has been my very first home improvement project -- and, appropriately enough, I suppose, for my first home. Since I've discovered that I'm pretty good at painting, I'm looking forward to painting my office as soon as I have some spare time.

Cleaning up for camper check-in

Camp Muncie is officially a big, huge mess!

But it's a beautiful, awesome big, huge mess. The holidays are fast approaching -- and if we're going to show this place off as the fabulous cottage by the river that it is, we're going to have to get busy.


See the pretty picture? That's what Camp Muncie looks like in mid-May, when everything's green, and clean, and airy. Since the weather's nice, the temperature's just right, and the mosquitos and carpenter bees haven't yet invaded, cleaning is a snap. But keeping Camp Muncie up in late October and early November is an entirely different story!

Outside, it's leaves, leaves, and more leaves. Leaves blown between the storm door and the wood door. Leaves about 6 inches deep on the walkway. Leaves tucked into the corner of the deck, where the broom couldn't quite fit. Leaves where I'd swept the deck clean only the day before yesterday. Yes...the day before yesterday -- but you'd never know that I had spent the better part of an hour sweeping, and raking, and wheelbarrow-ing.

Inside, it's clutter, clutter, and more clutter. My papers. Janie's papers. Our clothes -- folded and stacked on top of dressers, chests, chairs, and a couple of other flat surfaces, because neither of us has been especially inclined to finish putting them all into our respective closets.

This blog is going to tell -- I hope! -- the story of Camp Muncie's semi-miraculous transformation from a relatively sparse "campsite" to cottage living at its best. This place will never be especially fancy -- and really, the best camps wouldn't bother with such silly pretensions. We're much more interested in helping this place on the river show off its natural rustic beauty and charm. With, of course, a little help from our friends, human and critter alike.