Many people have visited the dollhouse over the last century and a half. Her welcoming brick walkway leads to a heavy, old, comforting front door. The handle is heavy, as well as the two door knockers.
The entry way now has offerings of flowers, herbs and intentional blessings set out for those who visit the home. Polite reminders to respect the essence and history of the dollhouse and her ancestors are hung on the walls.
The dollhouse has a bright, bold spirit that can be felt upon entering. You never feel alone here. It is surprisingly not creepy, but sometimes can be a bit uncomfortable. Most times, the essence of love and support is felt in every corner of every room.
As long as I can remember, I have wanted to buy this home. And as long as I can remember, I have be warned about it being haunted.
Three sets of previous owners have assured me that they were not creeped out here and they all speak of loving this home. I haven't heard one complaint yet.
This home has stories, and she wants her stories told.
The entryway leads to the long foyer of the dollhouse. On the table in the foyer sits a large, heavy plaque, engraved McPherson Agency 1889, a family relic from the dollhouse ancestors, and a protective railroad spike ward. Nothing harmful is making it far down this hallway.
As darkness falls, the moon lights up the long foyer from the grand window, upstairs on the landing.
The moon's glow cast light into the grand room. The grand room stretches from the front of the house to the very back of the house. A set of doors connect the foyer to the grand room and two sets of doors connect the grand room to the sunroom. Without lights, night time in the dollhouse can be a bit unnerving.
Countless energy signatures of those who once spent time here, can be felt here at any time.
In the evening, the grand room becomes a peaceful retreat to read and relax.
If you sit on the couch, closest to the sunroom, you will instantly get sleepy. The energy of dollhouse ancestor, George McPherson can be felt in that area. Night after night, he would fall asleep there, after a stressful day of work. Feet up, finally able to let go of the weight on his shoulders, he would fall into a sound slumber.
I prefer the comfy double rocker, instead of sitting in George's sleepy energy. It is situated closest to the foyer. However, if you sit there, have no expectations.
Night after night, unseen, unknown visitors seem to stop by the dollhouse. Most just in passing. A quick hello or a quick glimpse into their past and they keep it moving.
The dollhouse ancestors, from the very beginning spent their lifetimes serving others. Always offering help. Always offering food and shelter, safety and freedom. Every family that lived here did their best to help others. It can be felt all over the estate and it began with the Cannon family.
After about a month of living here, I started to feel like Edgar Allen Poe, wondering who was tapping at my chamber door. Each night, someone new to meet in the unseen. The baker, the merchants, the soldiers, the chief, the runaways, and the warriors in the gardens all left their energy signatures here. Each of them have stories to tell as well.
One night, while sitting in the great room, the dark, felt very dark. The air felt thick and heavy.
Do I hear thunder?
Or is that the trains?
Is it raining?
I cannot tell as I sit in my rocking chair.
I am exhausted from working in the gardens.
I do not care to look.
The back door of the dollhouse slams shut.
I am here alone.
The door was already shut and locked.
Maybe it wasn't!
I do not recall now!
I freeze.
I go blank.
I cannot remember!
In the doorway to the back of the dollhouse, stood the boat captain.
His large frame took up the entire doorway. His wide shoulders barely fit, as he appeared to be trapped, standing at the back door.
The red brick, black tourmaline and railroad ward will not let him take one step into the foyer.
His heavy rain jacket began dripping water all over the foyer floor.
There are no lights back there and only the glow of his white beard could be seen. His long, tangled beard hung down to the center of his chest. His hat covered his face.
The moon was now in the front of the dollhouse, reflecting only a tiny bit of light through the side windows beside the front door.
Drip.
Drip.
He is grasping something in his right hand. I cannot see it, but it is the cause of his anger.
He is angry, very, very angry.
Drip.
Drip.
His hostile, aggressive energy filled the foyer.
I am paralyzed in fear.
Who is he?
Why is he here?
I close my eyes, and take a very deep breath.
I ask the dollhouse ancestors to please protect me. I ask that they remove this angry boat captain from my doorway and remove him from the grounds.
I take another deep breath. I demand he leave. My thoughts scream through my mind. "Dollhouse ancestors, I do not like him and declare he be removed from the dollhouse!"
A voice speaks to me calmly, "No one must ever upset the lady of the house. He must go. I will take care of this for you." His accent soothes my frazzled nerves.
The voice is Samuel! Samuel who I met shortly after arriving here, is now escorting the angry boat captain from the estate!!
Samuel looks back at me with his loving smile. I take another deep breath. I can feel the fear leaving me. Samuel has been here at the dollhouse since the beginning. He is one of many warriors in the garden that protect the dollhouse and all who choose to live here.
***The picture posted was found online during my research. It is the New Brighton census from 1850. William Cannon and family, as well as Samuel are listed. The census shows the citizens grouped by households. Samuel lived with the Cannon family at the time of the census.***
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