How an Unloved 1860s Vermont Farmhouse Became One Family's Forever Home

PublishedApr 25, 2026 5:20 AM EDT

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Standing in a gravel driveway outbid by a pair of sisters on a foreclosure isn't how most people land their dream house. But it's how Julia Noran Johnston, founder of Domino's sister publication Business of Home, acquired hers. The 1860s farmhouse had plenty going for it, even after four years of sitting vacant: it occupied a bucolic corner of Vermont, offered lake access, and—crucially—it was old. "We don't buy anything that isn't genuinely old," declares Johnston, a self-described antiques devotee.

The property carried a remarkable provenance, with just three previous owners, among them descendants of the Cranbrook Academy of Art founders and a family who left behind troves of furnishings and artifacts.

There was a catch, as there always is with foreclosures: Johnston and her husband couldn't inspect the interiors except by peering through the windows—and relying on their imaginations. The auction was tense, but once the hammer fell in their favor, everything settled. "Walking through the house that day was extraordinary," she recalls, noting the original wide-plank pine flooring and period windows. "It was surprisingly spacious and clearly needed work, but the bones were solid."

Nine months later, they were hosting family for Christmas. The holiday served as a deadline to complete the home's "first draft," but it would take another full year to fully realize Johnston's vision for the seven-bedroom, three-and-a-half-bath farmhouse. "From the outside it looks humble and unassuming, and then you step through the door and it just unfolds and unfolds," Johnston says.

Being a steward of historic houses is a responsibility Johnston embraces; the upkeep and complications aren't merely expected—they're welcomed. The previous owners, who purchased in the '90s, "handled the really difficult renovations," as she puts it, including installing proper plumbing and electrical systems. They also added two wings in a U-shape, which Johnston found excessive for her family. To invite more daylight and open up the view—and to pare back square footage—she had one of the newer wings demolished.

Other architectural quirks became enjoyable design puzzles. One was the angled witch window in a bedroom, which demanded a bespoke window treatment. After extensive research, Johnston booked a consultation on The Expert with designer Hadley Wiggins, who proposed a simple grommet approach. Ultimately, Johnston settled on what began as a temporary fix—two tension rods and fabric panels from an Etsy maker—that became permanent. Another lesson: removing truly ancient wallpaper from equally ancient plaster risks the whole surface crumbling. So the children's rooms and upstairs bedroom were skim-coated and painted from the outset.

Not every room demanded a dramatic overhaul. The kitchen needed nothing more than a coat of black paint and a vintage dressmaker's table repurposed as an island to come alive. Functionally, the sole necessary update was retiring the beautiful but hazardous Garland stovetop that Johnston describes as "a commercial-grade gas behemoth." (Every time it fired up, the carbon monoxide detector went haywire.) The verdant freestanding tub and matching pipes in a guest bath were also left untouched, harmonizing naturally with her color sensibilities. "I'm drawn to the icky colors," Johnston confesses—shades of pink and taupe she characterizes as "sort of muddy and borderline ugly, yet somehow deeply comforting and serene."

For decorating direction, she looked to old English houses and assembled farmhouses. "You gain so much creative latitude—there's flexibility, forgiveness, and inherent character," she says of making a historic house your own. "And I adore antiques. I love being able to weave in what previous owners left behind."

Johnston and her husband, along with their two children, treated the home's cast-off contents like a shared hobby. Sawdust-filled dolls, painted family portraits, and even a trunk now serving as a sitting-room coffee table sent the family down "rabbit holes of research." To fill the gaps, Johnston hauled multiple carloads of antique end tables, nightstands, art, and books from nearby shops. Beyond fresh upholstery, a $300 Etsy staircase runner, and a handful of pieces in the blue-painted addition, you'll find scarcely anything new. Johnston's preferences aside, the modest scale of antique furniture simply suits the smaller proportions of the rooms better than their oversized contemporary counterparts.

These days, the home's entry stores skis through the winter months and operates as a towel-washing station after long summer days at the lake. When the weather warms, the barn shelters goat kids, chickens, and the occasional rabbit, alongside an "antiques graveyard" cleared out a few times a year. Broken chairs and other discards are left at the curb for restoration-minded neighbors. And this past Christmas, eighteen family members gathered around the dining table to celebrate.

Alyssa started her career at Domino, serving as a digital editor before becoming our first-ever social media manager. Her defining accomplishment: helping build Renovator's Notebook. She continued her career at industry leaders Semihandmade and West Elm. Now, she works with interior designers and furniture companies to tell their stories on social and beyond. Bold color, vintage designs and sustainable living are her calling cards.

Belle is the in-house photographer and associate photo editor for Domino, capturing everything from home tours to gift guides, plus the occasional how-to project. She joined the photo team as an intern in 2018 and was brought on full time in January 2021.

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