I thrill at the sight of old houses, no matter what condition they’re in. I think they’re beautiful with their weathered siding, vintage bubbly-glass windows, original hardwood, old-school weather vanes, all of it.
Here in Mayberry, I go out of my way on daily walks to drool over some of my favourites. One in particular has always spoken to me. It is painted crisp white, with a red brick fireplace on one side. It stands tall and stately; right on the edge of town, it welcomes drivers as they enter, and bids farewell to those who leave. It is a beautiful house. Do you want to see it? Well, it’s your lucky day—I just walked past a few weeks ago and snapped some photos.
I’m so excited to show you—I have coveted this house since the first time Poor Kyle drove me around town on our very first date. Here it is!
What’s that? You can’t see it? Here, I’ll zoom in:
It is an original house. It was built in the late 1800s, as a club house for the nearby factory—the lifeblood of this old town. When the factory closed in the ’50s, the house was auctioned off to the highest bidder, and changed owners many times during the next many years. Later, a new, modern factory came to town, and opened just across the street from the old clubhouse. The homeowners fought and complained against the stinky factory, claiming their quality of life had been seriously compromised, and that living downwind from the factory was detrimental to their health.
The new factory was too big, too important, for the homeowners to fight—they could not win. Instead, they sold their home to the factory owners, who refused to ever sell it again. That was years before I ever dreamed I would move to Mayberry. The house has since fallen into disrepair; it is plagued by bad air, or at least the claim of it. Every time I pass, I see its vacant windows, and wish I had known it in its prime.
That is, I still liked looking at it until it was demolished altogether. I suppose it was completely worthless to everyone who mattered.
Look at the bright blue and white cupboard doors! I’ve always wanted a cheerful kitchen like that—if I owned this house, I would keep them just like they are. But of course, I don’t own this house. Pity.
Hmmm…looks like this poor little tree, next to the house, has seen better days. I can’t imagine what could have it bent out of shape like this. It’s almost like it’s seen some sort of massive devastation recently. Poor fella.
Is there something wrong with this picture? With all of these pictures?
But somehow, that doesn’t really make me feel any better.
A lot mad.