I'm sitting on the wrap around porch of a "grand old lady". At least-that's what I call it. It's a house, but not just a house. This house has sat on this hill for at least 100 years (from what I could gather from my research). It overlooks Lake Memphremagog, and downtown Newport.
From where I am sitting on the porch I can see the south bay of Memphremagog through the fall leaves. It looks like something you would find on a postcard. Almost too beautiful to be real. The leaves are umber, orange, pink, green, gold, every hue you can think of. Intermixed within these are the evergreens. Through the tree's that are rapidly losing their leaves I can see the spires of downtown Newport. I can also see the beautiful "castle" church as my daughter calls it. It is actually called St. Mary's Star of the Sea and it is the only such church to be so far inland. It is beautiful.
From one of my daughter's window's on the second floor of this house you can see the church. I am sitting here on this porch that is bigger than some houses I have lived in, for probably one of the last times. We moved in here in August. It is a giant old house, and I believe there are spirits here. But that's for another blog. This one is dedicated to the house. The house sitting on the hill surrounded by hardwoods and softwoods, blackberry bushes (that we picked and ate all through August) and made our own jam and ice-cream topping from.
In a spirit of hope I planted bulbs for next spring, seeds for old fashioned flowers that I hoped would bloom around this beautiful Victorian home when the leaves are green again. My husband and children uncovered stone steps leading down to a flat place in our yard, there - they built a fire pit and we sat around the bonfire this summer while we roasted marshmallow's, told stories, laughed, and my husband taught the kids how to make "dough boy's" (biscuits molded around a thick stick roasted over the fire then filled with jelly).
I always wanted to live in a house like this. A giant house to me compared to what I have lived in with hardwood floors older than my grandfather, a beautiful banister, stairs, and elaborate spindle posts. A landing at the top of the stairs. There are 4 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, old light fixtures (some nautical porch lights with anchors that are like nothing I've ever seen) and sinks that can only be found in antique store's now. You can lose people in this house as I have found while I walked upstairs/downstairs and all around the porch and basement yelling the names of my husband, children, and dog.
The basement is huge and creepy (as you would expect~and it just wouldn't be the same if it wasn't as far as I'm concerned) there is an old root cellar that I assume was used to "put up" the summer's harvest as my grandmother did when I was a girl. It is built out of old lumber timber and I wonder if the timber came from when Newport was a bustling train stop. This house has character, beautiful large window's filled with light, and spirit to spare.
Unfortunately, it also has lead paint, a heating bill that probably wouldn't allow us to buy groceries in the winter in the current economic climate, and more renovation needed than we could ever financially afford. We leased it with the dream of someday buying it. Even though we knew the landlord's wife wanted to make it her retirement home. Now my husband (and I) although I loathe to admit it have found a more "sensible" home, and with the help of family hopefully we will be able to purchase it someday. We will be moving within a few weeks-back to suburbia to a house made in the late 80's, with a dishwasher and baseboard heat (our daughter has asthma and this old furnace with its many ducts of -who-knows-what-stuffed into the pipes is not good for her breathing (what did kids do back before nebulizers, asthma inhaler's?)...I wonder.
The neighborhood we are moving to is only about a mile away, but it may as well be a galaxy away from this hill, where other "grand old ladies" (as I love to call them sit). These huge houses that have been witness to generations of families, births, deaths, family stories played out among the years...silently watching from their places on the hill as the culture changed, the people changed, the town changed. In my research I noted that this house had once been in one family for 3 generations. To me this inspires the imagination. Three generations of the same family - living their lives out in the same home, this beautiful home where the paint is flaking (lead paint at that-probably falling on my head with the autumn leaves as I type-;), but the solid columns and beams supporting the porch that could house an entire living room set are still standing solid, though their paint may be flaking off, the porch boards may be rotting, and the wiring may need to be re-done. This house is still standing after over 100 years and that is more than can be said for newer structures built after this one.
I complained when I first moved in. I could smell mold, paint was flaking off everywhere, how could we afford to heat it? No dishwasher!? My husband laughed and said it had an "antique" dishwasher...I actually believed him.
But now...after 3 months~I have come to love this home, and much to my husbands chagrin, the kids and I are loathe to leave it. I wash dishes and I have watched the seasons change from the window from where I wash and dry. My grandmother always loved to watch out of the window while she washed and dried dishes, and only now, that I am older, more introspective-more patient-do I understand. I have watched my children play, my husband mow the yard, the leaves and bushes slowly change, the birds nest and fly, and our cat sleeping on a tree branch. You would never expect all of this drama to unfold in a backyard~and I never would have taken the time to watch~ had I not had to hand wash the dishes.
I guess there is something to be said for slowing down.
I have moved now, the the other side of the porch. The side that faces Mt. Vernon street. - and another beautiful old home that I believe may be older than this one. And it has been vacant since we moved here. A beautiful home -the bank owns it now. My children are playing in its yard, I don't think the bank nor the home will mind. In fact it probably enjoys children playing in it, the sounds of laughter long gone from its halls. Can you tell I'm a nostalgic? :)
After we have moved I will miss this house-although as my husband said when I can be safely heated in the harsh winter here - 5 miles from the Canadian border and our daughter is breathing better, and I am able to back my truck out of a garage with a garage door opener~these are things I will probably appreciate.
Next Spring when our children are able to ride their bikes and play basketball and find other neighborhood children to play with it will seem worth it. I know he is right, but a part of me will always miss this house. When I pass it on my way to work I will feel a tug at my heart. I hope whomever lives here next, or owns it will love it as much as I do. I just hope they will have the resources to restore her to her former glory without violating her past. I also hope they appreciate the flower's I planted for them and tend to them, as I did the ferns, perennials, and raspberry bushes that were left here for our enjoyment.
Peace for now.
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