On another walk around my parents neighborhood, I ventured across Brook Rd………and noticed these grand old dames.
The two stone beauties had former carriage houses, which look like to have been turned into garages or apartments. I would love to have seen these in their heyday, although most seem to be well maintained. The stories they would tell!
This is two blocks over from my parents block. I had noticed the building before, on my daily walks with my ruffs whenever I visit home. It seemed out of place……from another time. My mom confirmed it though. It used to be plantation type home, named Laburnum.
How sad! It currently is empty (hell yes I peeked in the windows!), and a part of a community college campus. I believe it was once used as administration offices, but upon looking in the windows, it stands barren. It looks dejected, how grand it must have been as a residence!
Of course I had to take a picture of the once (and still!), grand entrance. Just imagine walking up those stairs!
The front entrance columns made me feels like a dwarf in Lord of thd Rings. And the detail in EVERYTHING was amazing.
Why aren’t buildings of today this impressive?
It was a little hard to find any information on the house, but I did find this article. It was purchased by Joseph Bryan in 1890, and it is not the original Laburnum House. Here is more about the house, and a sister house of the same era called Brook Hill.
Also, here is more information about the Bryan family.
Y’all know my obsession with doors. They are fascinating to me. You can open one and it leads to someplace new, or you can close it and stay right where you are. They keep people and elements you don’t wish to see out. They are mysterious…..
So, I take that love of doors with me everywhere. I try to notice details about doors that one normally wouldn’t. This Thanksgiving, there was a definite common theme in my parents neighborhood in Richmond, VA. Almost every other house had a brightly colored door, not just your typical brown or white. Here are a few of my favorite finds.
Last one, I promise!
Why is it when I travel to my parents house, I am instantly transported to feeling like I am in elementary school? Even though it isn’t the house of my childhood, the nostalgia is the same. Their new house was built in 1919 and has all the qualities and character of houses of yore. As soon as I pull up and see that red-tile roof, I feel as if it is Christmas morning and I am 6 years old.
I traveled this weekend to Philadelphia via Richmond, to see my baby sister in her element. I can’t believe we came from the same parents because she is complete opposite of me! A big dreamer, big planner, and big go-getter, she is one of the most driven individuals I have eved met. She is the city girl, where I am the country girl. She is themost goal oriented gal, and she has worked so very hard to be where she is.
However, the four of us walking around Philadelphia again instantly transported me to past family vacations (minus our brother, Banks) parents leading and kids following in tow. Does that emotion and feeling ever leave, even though we are all grown? I certainly hope not, for however grown up we are, we all need our parents.