Morning, September 26… no cold chills in the night, no ghostly apparitions, no ghostly echoes of crying babies (thinking of the Moore twins from 1858). In fact, it was quite a restful sleep.
As for the photo… one of the things that strikes me about old places are the floors. This floor has all the character of a house that’s over 160 years old. The warps, grooves, wearing… all very cool. I especially marvel over the “life” that wooden floors carry with them. While some focus on the “if these walls could talk” thing, I wonder more about the floors. Fighting any thoughts of confabulation, I still have to wonder if these are the original floors that carried the weight of burden from my ggg grandparents as they worried about their twin boys… and then the grief afterward.