I am not sure why, but Tim likes to look at what's come up for sale. This home is in Bradford, and we stopped by to take a look at it. It's beautiful, but in desperate need of someone to care for it. Much to our surprise, as we walked across the damaged stone patio with the wrought iron awning framework, down the spiraled stone walk way, we noticed at the back of the ivy covered home that the door was open. Completely unlocked. Not broken into. Just left wide open. We were a little astonished by this, because this is really a beautiful home, four bathrooms with the original circa 1920 fixtures. I seriously have never seen such exquisite toilets, which seems like an odd thing to go on about, doesn't it? But really they were remarkable. Clawfoot tubs, pedestal tubs, the sinks were great china pedestal sinks. At least two of the bathrooms had recessed vanities, with tiny drawers and fancy mirrors set up. Elaborate wallpapering, even a large painting leaning against the wall.
I love old houses and I could have wandered around all day. I imagined the house in its 'hey day', when all of that elegance was new. When the paint was new, and the wallpaper was new. When the circular entranceway welcomed you inside the beautiful and massive wood door. Once inside the chandelier would cast prisms of light around the walls, small rainbows of bright color splashed everywhere, the spiral stair case framing the whole scene.
I imagined parties there, and exquisitely dressed women holding court in the bathrooms peering in the mirrors of those elegant vanities, reapplying makeup while smoking their cigarettes back in the day before cigarettes caused cancer (Joke, people...that was a gentle joke at the ignorance of the time...). I imagined the music, a fire in the fireplace, and how the hardwood floors would have gleamed. I wandered upstairs to the bedrooms, big and spacious, and then again up to the third floor where I am assuming the nursery was. I imagined the house with period furnishings. I imagined the original family. It was a wonderful home, and I know that we should not actually have been inside, and really, Tim seemed anxious that we should not linger, so I cut my daydreaming short, and headed back downstairs, out through the cluttered and junky kitchen, no appliances, a stash of unmarked jugs in the corner, an old record album lying in front of a window.
When we were probably 10 miles down the road, I was still daydreaming about the darling little arched doors that went under the stairs. The unexpected little twists and turns of that house. It really was a little house you could get lost in, and I was having a fine time daydreaming about what I would do with all of those rooms.
Tim interrupted my reverie. "Those jugs in the corner of the kitchen? Do you think someone is brewing 'meth' there?" I stared at him slackjawed. Heck. It had not even occurred to me. When I'm wandering around in another time period, it is always a shock to be slapped back into the present.