“He loved the extensive vaults where you could hear the night birds and the sea breeze; he loved the craggy ruins bound together by ivy, those dark halls, and any appearance of death and destruction. Having fallen so far from so high a position, he loved anything that had also fallen from a great height”
― Gustave Flaubert
Alright, we’re all clear that a certain morbidity level is to be tolerated, yes? Excellent, let’s proceed.
I was talking to friend and Favorite of the Blog, Caitlin Kelly the other day about how philosophically weird the county is. Civilization and wilderness run smack into each other and wage a constant war for supremacy. Unbelievable poverty live side by side with immense wealth – I’m talking massive, old family estates next door to collapsing trailers. This neck of the Virginia woods is a textbook study in contrasts.
And I’m afraid I often come down on the side of rust, ruin, and wreckage. Goodness knows I can scheme about owning my 18th century red brick pile someday, but the truth is I find the falling down bits more fascinating. Some houses and buildings were abandoned slowly, as farms failed, wars took their toll, or families simply died out, and others you get the sense that people just walked away from them all at once and never looked back.
For some reason or another (I suspect the lone, flapping, ghostly curtain and creeping vines), I find this house charmingly spooky. I could be reclaimed and fixed up beautifully – or it could be haunted. Either is possible.
You can see how the area was settled and developed. This is one house built in stages: the left bit is the original (probably single room) cabin and the family, or later generations of it, added on the right bit for additional room and respectability. Then, who knows what happened – I for one long to!
Some of it is haunted (probably), some of it is sad, and some of it is just photogenic.