I went for a short walk around my neighborhood today, while I had some time before I headed back to work. I took my camera along with me just in case I found something interesting to snap a picture of. The concrete path that I walked around carried me throughout my neighborhood, it's the place that I've called home my entire life, nearly 20 years now, so you'd think that I would know every aspect of it, but in all reality, there is much about my small town, Washington Twp, that I don't know about.
I stopped once I got to the front of my neighborhood, and as I walked past the old barn that several years ago was petitioned from being torn down, I appreciated it's transformation. The almost-nonexistent barn is now used to hold rustic wedding receptions complete with twinkling yellow lights that faintly peak through the wood planks at night.
I continued on, I walked past the entrance to my neighborhood, past the Washington Woods sign that a few months back had been split into two pieces when a car smashed into it, the driver was never identified.
Next, I decided to take a swift left and after a short walk I was on the steps of the Loren Andrus Octagon House which has stood proudly long before it was built in 1858 by Andrus, his father and close advisory from their Architect brother-in-law David Stewart. The 8 sided house was an entry in a home-for-show contest between several families to test who could build the most unusual home, the octagon home took the grand prize. The house, which is also on the national register of historic places, offers routine group tours for those who wish to learn more about it's unique history, including it's involvement as a "station" on the Underground Railway. Of course, when I was younger, most of the neighborhood kids spread rumors that the house was haunted and that secret rooms were found in the basement.
I used to find my small town boring and uneventful, but since leaving for college, I see that my hometown is so much more than just a place.
There is a special feeling about being being from a place where history exists. There are people who called the place home before you did and you carry on the same unconditional love for it's soil no matter how far you venture away.
Welcome to Washington Twp. Welcome home.
