Some homes tell you exactly what they are on paper. This one insists that you come see for yourself. Most houses were built all at once. This one was built twice. It began in 1938 — a gable-front on a half acre of Cayuga Heights, under hemlocks that were already tall. In 2012, it grew—a whole-house addition. A thoughtful expansion that nearly doubled its size and somehow made the home feel as though it had always been this way. It wears its age beautifully, but never leans on it. The original house lingers in the details—white brick framing the dining room fireplace, cast iron radiators beneath the windows, pine floorboards polished by eighty-seven years of living. The newer spaces don't compete for attention; they simply belong, filling the home with light, volume, and a sense that it has always been exactly this size. The magic isn't in hiding its history—it's in embracing it. The floor plan unfolds organically: stairs where you didn't expect them, a hallway that turns just so, a back staircase that's equal parts charming and practical. It's a home that's had two beautiful lives folded into one. Two entrances. Spaces that invite gathering and corners that offer retreat. Room for multi-generational living, working from home, hosting out-of-town guests, or simply spreading out. Thoughtfully maintained throughout, the home offers two furnaces, two wood stoves, a fireplace, hardwood and tile floors, a finished attic and basement, a detached two-car garage, a new back deck, and a partially fenced yard for four-legged family members. The inspection and radon testing have already been completed—no hidden surprises, just the kind you'll discover as you wander from room to room. A fire pit in the grass beneath the pines. Hydrangeas by the front walk. Come walk it.