Sitting at her heart pine table in the shifting light of a blustery November morning, Linda Case gets a little teary just talking about Cool Spring Farm.



In 1998, when she and her late husband John had been looking for a country home, Cool Spring Farm came up on a Google search. He had checked it out on a solo trip, and reported that the house was in rough shape. Still, she wanted a look. Before they had made it down the driveway, Linda recalls booming, “We have to buy this place!”

Linda had spent decades in the home-remodeling industry, and saw something in the ramshackle house that other potential buyers wanted to raze. The house had been unoccupied for years, and for years before that had provided seasonal quarters for migrant workers. The barn, now beautifully rebuilt, had collapsed to its foundation.

To Linda, though, the buildings were a secondary consideration. “I fell in the love with the land right away,” she said.

The land was once part of George Washington’s Bullskin Run holdings. The future president had surveyed the area some time around 1748, then purchased 550 acres. He added to this, eventually owning more than 2,000 acres—including what is now Cool Spring Farm.



The property is on the National Register and is maintained for animal habitat, with some areas planted for crops to feed turkey, quail, and songbirds. Bullskin Run finds a long lazy turn on the land, creating an eight-acre marl marsh that supports 182 species of plants—including 18 West Virginia-rare species.

Although the house was uninhabitable, a second house, the stone Patent House, was in bad shape but structurally sound. It was built sometime around 1790, probably by the family that had secured the original lease, or patent, from Washington.

The farmhouse was built in 1830 by Thomas Griggs, Jr., a man of considerable means. It was an “I” house, with front rooms and backrooms connected by a center hall.

She and John set their sites on the Patent House, creating a lovely weekend place for them to use while the farmhouse was rebuilt.. Their dreams were coming alive, and they measured progress on each visit. Then they received news that John was terminally ill. In five months he was gone.

Linda gave herself a year to decide whether to pursue the dream they both shared, or to sell the farm and stay in Silver Spring. The work on the house continued.

When Linda’s year of contemplation was up, she loaded up the truck and moved to the farm. “Once I made the decision to come here, I’ve never looked back. I have a love affair with this property,” she said. The house had been transformed into a charming home of no single vintage, yet still faithful to its character.

“This is not a restoration,” said Linda. “It’s just my vision. I wanted a house that looked furnished without furnishings.” There are built-in shelves and cabinets throughout; the décor is more country cottage than Shenandoah Valley plantation.

Linda plans to share this love with future generations. She hopes to bequeath Cool Spring Farm to a nonprofit organization that will care for the land and allow the public to hike and enjoy wildlife. “I don’t feel as though I own this land,” she said. “I’m a steward.”



Outside we stop to admire the sunlight on the marsh and the reeds dancing in the wind. Linda shows me the apple espalier climbing the Patent House stone wall. It’s a memorial to John. Each branch has been grafted by a local orchardist with a different variety of apple, and each spring he returns to add a new variety.

“He’s retired from the orchard business,” says Linda. “But he loves the place so much he keeps coming back.”

Cool Spring Farm has that effect.