I have driven by this old mill house in my neighborhood for fourteen years now. It's been here for at least one hundred before that. That used to sound like a lot more years to me than it does these days. Ha!
The house sits farther off the road than it appears here. And until very recently was an abandoned and crumbling ruin. Its former perfectly aged gray stucco suggested to me an old French farmhouse. Now and then I would pull off the road just to look at it and imagine what life beneath the elms, inside those tiny rooms, would feel like.
Many locals have had a romance with this house. Though I haven't spoken to a single one of them, the well worn pull-out on the side of the road tells the story. Indeed, I've seen a few folks stop to snap a photo. Something that I regret I never did do.
We did stop once to survey the place a few years ago when the door stood open and we were brave enough to withstand a possible scolding for trespassing. The rooms were musty and damp. Shocking for a house in our arid climate. Windows were broken, as were the stairs. Yet the general decay only left a more endearing impression and a yearning for rescue.
But now that it has been thankfully restored, and its ghosts banished, the old bricks and boards and rusty roof seem to have no room left for catching dreams. . . .
Today's open house to a lot of subdued people.
Upstairs view to the front. The rooms were too small and full of people to get photos of much except outside the windows!
The staged guest room in Southwestern style.
Second story view to the south.
Thanks for stopping by!
I hope your weekend is great!
Join me at