Sunset Sailor
The old Walloomsac Inn
Whispers coming from the bushes and the trees. "Over here." "Over here." Then I saw her. An old house, neglected, I thought. I photographed what was visible of the grand old house. It wasn't until I drove the wrong way upon leaving that I discovered the immense west wing of the old Walloomsac Inn. Built in 1764, this old New England Inn has entertained many famous residents, including two presidents. It is said that no one has been a guest there since the early part of the last century. She stands today, much as she did then. Her white paint long gone and her green shutters crackled and perched at awkward angles. The vines and trees that once adorned her are now her prison. Rumor tells of someone still living in the emptiness of all those old rooms. Rumor is true. Someone adorns the walk and porch with flowers and plants. There’s a wreath of violet hanging on the door. I witnessed the mailman deliver to the door.
What memories this old Inn must hold. How many historic and entertaining figures have penned their names in the old guestbook, now open to dust in an empty hall. The old kitchen stove now home for mice. I ask myself, do the rooms still hold the furnishings and objects of the era? Is there a copy of the Vermont Standard, from 1928, still sitting in the library? Are the guest tables set for breakfast, still? What turn of events took the old Inn to this state of being? How empty it must seem to the resident Innkeeper, who listens to her creaks and groans in the wind.
The old Walloomsac Inn
Whispers coming from the bushes and the trees. "Over here." "Over here." Then I saw her. An old house, neglected, I thought. I photographed what was visible of the grand old house. It wasn't until I drove the wrong way upon leaving that I discovered the immense west wing of the old Walloomsac Inn. Built in 1764, this old New England Inn has entertained many famous residents, including two presidents. It is said that no one has been a guest there since the early part of the last century. She stands today, much as she did then. Her white paint long gone and her green shutters crackled and perched at awkward angles. The vines and trees that once adorned her are now her prison. Rumor tells of someone still living in the emptiness of all those old rooms. Rumor is true. Someone adorns the walk and porch with flowers and plants. There’s a wreath of violet hanging on the door. I witnessed the mailman deliver to the door.
What memories this old Inn must hold. How many historic and entertaining figures have penned their names in the old guestbook, now open to dust in an empty hall. The old kitchen stove now home for mice. I ask myself, do the rooms still hold the furnishings and objects of the era? Is there a copy of the Vermont Standard, from 1928, still sitting in the library? Are the guest tables set for breakfast, still? What turn of events took the old Inn to this state of being? How empty it must seem to the resident Innkeeper, who listens to her creaks and groans in the wind.