So the secret's finally out.
After five years of living full-time in a vintage Airstream, traveling to all 50 states and 17 countries on 4 continents, we bought a house. A very, very old house. On an island in Scotland.
I know. I'm still processing it too.
How it happened
The short version: we came to Scotland in January 2025, planning to stay for a month or two. We'd been before. Twice, actually, both times in winter, because apparently we're the kind of people who vacation in Scotland in January and call it genius.
But this time was different. Something about Skye in winter, the way the light sits low and golden even at midday, the quiet of the villages, the feeling of space without emptiness. It got to me in a way I couldn't shake.
We kept extending our stay. A month became two. Two became four. James flew back and forth for work and military duty. The kids settled into a rhythm: morning schoolwork, afternoon exploring, evening cozied up in whatever rental we'd found that week.
And then one afternoon, scrolling through property listings with a cup of tea (because that's what you do in Scotland: you drink tea and scroll property listings), I found it.
The cottage
It's a stone cottage in the Broadford area of the Isle of Skye. About 200 years old, give or take. Two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and a garden that had been completely overtaken by bramble. The roof needed replacing. The walls were damp. There was mold in places mold should not be. The home valuation basically said it needed a new roof and a lick of paint, which, having now gutted the entire thing, is the understatement of the century.
But the bones were good. The stone walls were thick and (mostly) solid. The location was stunning: you could see the water from what would become the living room. And there was something about standing in that shell of a house, surrounded by centuries of history, that felt like possibility.
James, ever the pragmatist, made a spreadsheet. I, ever the dreamer, made a Pinterest board. We talked about it for weeks, running numbers, weighing risks, questioning our sanity. Were we really going to buy a crumbling cottage in a foreign country and try to restore it while also homeschooling two kids and running a business?
Yes. Yes we were. We closed in May while James was in Hawaii for his annual military duty. Because nothing says "major life decision" like signing mortgage paperwork from a different ocean.
Why Scotland, why now
People keep asking this, and the honest answer is: we didn't plan it. We're a family that has spent five years saying yes to whatever felt right, and Scotland felt right. The island life rearranged my expectations of time, convenience, and community. It's slower here. Less predictable. Often less efficient. And somehow exactly what we needed.
I honestly didn't think I had the patience or personality for the slow island life. But here we are. The kettle goes on a lot more. We feel more connected than ever. And somewhere along the way, my shoulders relaxed.
The kids have adjusted in the way kids do: completely and without fuss. Calvin is learning about Scottish history by standing in the places it happened. Millie has befriended every Highland cow on the island and reports on their well-being daily.
What this means for travel
Here's what I want to be clear about: we are not done traveling. This is not the end of Colletta and Co. This is a new chapter.
The cottage is a base, not a cage. We'll still travel. Maybe differently, maybe more intentionally, but the curiosity that started this whole adventure hasn't gone anywhere. We're just adding roots to the equation.
Think of it this way: we spent five years as a family in motion. Now we're becoming a family with a home to come back to. And honestly? That feels like the most radical thing we've done yet.
We can't wait to share what's coming as this 200-year-old stone cottage gets a full gut and restoration. Have questions? I'd love to answer them.
Follow along as we turn this crumbling old cottage into our Scottish home.
