I rewind the clock eleven years, resurfacing these slightly spooky captures of Griffin on March 29, 2013. Our late Labrador retriever still presides over Rosslyn’s entrance staircase in my memory. His handsome mug and build, relaxed and lethargic, gazing down, anticipating adventure. Or a banquet. The ghostly image and Griffin’s eyes conjure a perfect pub name: Haunt & Hound.
But I’m naming no pub. Only remembering a dear friend. And chuckling at recurring inquiries whether our old house houses old spirits…
Is Rosslyn haunted? Do we ever see or hear ghosts?!
Photographic evidence notwithstanding, Susan and I have never experienced a Rosslyn haunting. Yet…
[…]
To date, our country life is spirited — splendidly, sportingly, serendipitously spirited — but not haunted. No phantoms. No mysterious, ghostly phenomena.
(Source: Spirited Country Life)
Perhaps our dogs — Tasha, Griffin, and Carley — have scared the ghosts away?
Or perhaps only happy spirits have passed this way, so they do not linger, do not bump and moan in the darkness.
I remember early on, shortly after purchasing our home, taking friends for a tour with their young son. Their visit made an impression on me for several reasons, and it has surfaced in previous posts for that reason. During the house tour, Dak (maybe seven or eight years old at the time), raced around exploring then boomeranging back to report on his findings and to ask questions. One of the intrigues that the young boy conveyed to us pertained to the possibility of ghosts, phantoms of Rosslyn’s forbears. Certainly, he half-asked-half-willed, there must be ghosts in this old house, right? There must be! His optimism was palpable.
The question of ghosts inhabiting Rosslyn arose periodically during the lengthy renovation. Contractors mostly, and their questions leaned closer to wary than enthusiastic. I don’t recall any ghostly reports, but I do recollect some surprise that hauntings were not happening.
(Source: More to Say)
Happenings still are not happening.
Shortly after purchasing Rosslyn in the summer of 2006 friends were touring the house with us when their young son blasted through a doorway.
“Do you think this house is haunted?!”
His optimism was palpable. He related in quick chronicle what he’d discovered during his solo inspection of the house. On the third floor, he assured us, there are hidden doors and secret passageways. Mystery and intrigue percolated in his proud delivery.
[…]
Shortly thereafter, multiple contractors assured us that the house was probably haunted. Two centuries of living (and, inevitably, at least some “expiring”) within these walls *must* have resulted in a few lingering spirits. Certainly Rosslyn was haunted, right? Right?! Again, a blend of dread and intrigue. But over the yearslong renovation, they gradually abandoned their soothsaying as uneventful days (and not a few evenings) dispelled their early convictions. Mystery anticipated; mystery dispelled.
(Source: Does Mystery Make a House a Home?)
At the outset I intended to summon a spirited poem titled “Haunt & Hound”. But sometimes poems are stillborn. Or delayed. Alas…
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