Let the House Tell It
In her own words.
Welcome — I am the Georgian-style lady on Main, born in 1901. Like a well-tailored coat, I’m adorned in perfect symmetry. I stretch 4,544 square feet across two proud stories, and I remember every footstep that ever crossed my thresholds.
I used to be top-heavy once — I had a third floor where my speakeasy lived, tucked away like a secret from a black-and-white film. I won’t tell you everything that happened up there, but I will tell you this: the nights were alive. Glasses clinked, music swelled, and the thrill of doing something forbidden made my rafters hum. The Love family danced in my rooms; they filled me with music and mischief and left a rhythm in my floorboards that still hums if you stand very still.
I’ve been loved and I’ve been restored. A full house makeover polished my bones and strengthened my frame, but it did not erase my memory. I kept the important things — the crown molding that traces my ceilings like careful handwriting, the pocket doors that still giggle when you slide them open, and the transom windows above my wood doorways that keep the air moving and the house alive.
“The pocket doors still giggle when you slide them open.”
Inside, I hold five bedrooms — huge ones, the kind that hold trunks and afternoon naps and wide, slow mornings. I have a big ground-floor office that has seen everything from serious work to secret letters, and a hobby room that has smelled of glue, paint, and possibility. My kitchen has been updated with modern cabinetry and granite countertops; she’s practical and beautiful and ready for today’s cooks, but she still sits where she has always sat — at the heart of me.
My wrap-around porch is one of my favorite features. She hugs me from one side to the other, offering living spaces that invite you to sit, sip, rock, read, and watch the world go by. Mornings on my porch have seen coffee steam and newspaper rustle; evenings have held porch lights and long conversations. That porch adds so much charm it practically sparkles.
I may have new windows on the outside, but inside I keep my old soul. I remember the hands that sanded my banister, the children who raced down my stairs, the lovers who whispered promises in my alcoves. I remember the practical things too — the careful repairs and thoughtful updates that let me stand another hundred years.
So come and see me. Pull open my pocket doors if you like; maybe you’ll giggle too. Sit on my porch and let the breeze tell you a few of my secrets. Walk my rooms and feel the layers of time under your feet. I am polished and practical, historic and modern, and I promise to make you feel right at home.