Victorian Dreams

The first time I visited my dad and his family here, in this particular borough, I fell in love. With a house. The neighboring communities all have houses that strike my fancy; some are more elaborate and beautiful than others, and some have property that greatly increases the attractiveness of the house itself. The old wooden farmhouses with ancient barns and stately Victorians with their fancy gingerbread trim catch my eye most often.

There is one house in my dad's hometown that I've admired since I was a child. It's smack-dab in the middle of the busiest part of town and is now either a funeral home or a law office. I always loved the curved bay windows with the inner polished-wood privacy shutters, also curved, and the ornate woodwork and dark green-with-cream color scheme. But that's not the one I was referring to, though it's on my list of favorites.

There is another huge Victorian, blue and cream, with an incredible wraparound porch and a matching guest house and garage, sitting on a corner lot in the Big Town across from the former Wal-Mart location. It was for sale at a surprisingly low price for a home of that caliber a couple of years ago. It needed a bit of woodwork which has since been done. It's gorgeous, also on my list, still not the one.

There is yet another, right here in town... an old faded white farmhouse on a large tree-lined lot. It's set back from the road in a private copse and is in need of cosmetic work. I love the location. It's a block from the so-called hub of town and fronts the main road, but is tucked away so neatly that it took me a year to realize it was there. To my knowledge it isn't for sale. I went up to the porch once to scope it out, thinking it was empty; a note on the front door told me otherwise. The house could be beautiful, truly impressive, with some fresh paint and new windows and landscaping. And, you guessed it, that's not the one either.

Finally, one out on Rt. 61, for two reasons: one, it has rainbow-colored clay shingles. Two, it has an impressive garage with matching shingles. I look for it every time we go that way. I'd like those shingles on my own house someday, but I bet they're outrageously expensive for a place that size. Now, on to The One...

The house I fell in love with the first time I saw it isn't brightly colored or dripping with scrollwork. It doesn't have a barn or a lot of property, though it does have a nice corner lot. The only people I ever see there are the ones mowing and landscaping in the spring and summer. There are rarely any lights on after dark. I know someone lives there; I was told it was an elderly couple, or perhaps just the woman now, but I haven't met or spoken to anyone there. It's a large hulking tan-brick with white trim and copper shingles. And a dome. I've never seen the inside, no idea how it's laid out or if it's kept up as well as the exterior, and I don't care. I. want. this. house.

I see it more than once every day, since it's across the street from my place. On a main road, no privacy or wooded lots bordering it, no buffers from traffic noise, in direct earshot of the emergency siren at the firehall (as are we), and on the corner where the parades turn (not that that's a bad thing, really). It isn't out in the country (which B and I both prefer) nor is it practical by any means. It's just a big chunk of house with a beautiful yard plunked in the middle of town. Oddly, it's easy to overlook, since most people drive right by, unless you stop and realize just how impressive it is. I do this on a daily basis. Sadly, even if it did ever go on the market, I'd have to win the lottery twice to afford it.


I love the ornamental iron around the chimney!