I know this house from my childhood, home of a school friend. Her parents were eccentric academics. This big old house, built in 1840, was the epitome of grand to me. Floors squeeked and pitched unevenly from room to room, doors were heavy and grand old fireplaces were in many rooms, mantles laden with many books and flower arrangements that had dried in their containers some time ago. An air of elegant neglect. A fine layer of dust and heavy brocade upholstered furniture with velvet draperies in the formal rooms was right out of Jane Austen! There were rumors of haunting. If I remember correctly, the family moved into this historical palace with its furniture intact from the prior owners. A 'bohemian' couple before their time, my friends parents welcomed a varied and motley collection of children here. This was the 1950's, this type of house was not exactly the rage at that time. Surrounded by woods and open fields, 18 acres come with this property. Some along-the-way updates have rather corrupted the lines I see, but I could fix that.
I was so taken with this property that over the years I have driven past remembering all the wonderful times spent there. Reading, playing piano, games and sleeping out in the open fields, under the stars. This leads me to my opening statement...I always said (to myself) that if this property ever came on market it had my name on it! Is it possible to be so imprinted in childhood to have carried those memories all these years? I see that I might have unconciously incorporated some of the elements of this house into the home we built.
57 years have passed since those childhood infatuations with ancient brick and wood. Yet, this place still calls to me. Even though I always said.... this will not likely happen. It feels a little like a let down, this realization, but as long as this dream seemed out of reach it was a good one.
ps: I will get back to sewing/quilting soon. The last major construction project for the year starts tomorrow.
Comments