Lynchburg Virginia

The Old, the New and a Big Red Shoe

| Flower Roberts

Lynchburg is one of those historic cities that have old buildings neighboring new ones. Renovation and restoration exist side-by-side with new construction. I believe this effort is worth the extra time it takes to make progress.

Downtown has just the right amount of energy. It is walker friendly, but very hilly.

There is a new feature named Art Alley that adds vibrant color and art to a street that is blocked to traffic.

I was impressed with the use of natural vegetation on slopes instead of struggling to artificially landscape them. Hills are hell to manage, so letting nature do it is wise. I love vines!

The city is divided into Historic Districts which can be easily navigated on foot. If the hills are too much for you, there is a walkway and park along the river and railroad tracks.

This is my second stay at the beautiful Craddock Terry Hotel which was originally a shoe factory. They have an excellent restaurant, The Shoemaker. The big windows and high, wooden ceilings make it charming.

I enjoyed wandering the streets again this visit. There is so much to pause and ponder on. I always wish I had more time there.

I was happy to be taken by car to the Diamond Hill District. I was not looking forward to hauling my Covid pounds up to that altitude. My new friends Jennifer and Mary were kindly patient during my forays out of the car to take photos. (Thanks ladies)

Cary DeVall Langhorne House

Lynchburg is doing a great job of moving forward without mowing down its history. I like that balance of respect and practicality. Careful progress is slower, but better in the long run.

I am a fan of Lynchburg. I do recommend comfortable shoes and a water bottle. Hauling around a big camera is worth the effort. There are interesting sights everywhere.

FLOW on the GO

Same Scene: Wiser Eyes

| Flower Roberts

I felt compelled to return to that mysterious Langhorne House in Lynchburg during my visit last week.

https://wordpress.com/post/floweralley.org/13332

I was hoping to see signs of improvement, but instead found evidence of further weathering and decay.

I could proceed to chastise the present owners for neglect, but I empathize with them instead.

I know what it is like to inherit property with more deficits than assets.

It takes real money, time and effort to bring an old place up to present standards.

This house on the hill calls for restoration. It has a public history that seems to demand it. But where is the money?

The private owner must not be motivated to paint and renovate.

Not enough love, loyalty and funds? Bad memories? Family disputes? No matter! There must be a lack of motivation and/or inspiration.

The lights were on. That is a sign that the wires still work and heat is a possibility.

Two empty trailers were parked out back. At least someone is using the place.

It still feels lonely. It still seems empty. It is a sad remnant of a grand past.

Sometimes the weight of the past is too heavy to heave into the present.

I get that now. The haunting emptiness, the unpleasant memories, the emotional avoidance. Those burdens are real.

I hope that someday the Cary DeVall Langhorne house will be given new life and a face lift.

The historic neighborhood is quite lovely and well-maintained. There were busy workmen and scaffolding on almost every street.

What we do with our history is up to those in the present.

Maybe four years from now I will see a fresh coat of paint and repaired steps on this lovely, historic site.

FLOW

A Place with a Presence

| Flower Roberts

Earlier this week, I spent hours walking the streets of Lynchburg, Virginia

and taking hundreds of photographs of historic houses, churches and gardens.

I was stopped in my tracks by this particular house.

What made me pause and put down my camera?

Why did I feel the need to sit down and then circle this property?

Did it remind me of someone’s home in my childhood years?

Was there some architectural aspect that seemed familiar?

Its facade does vaguely resemble the Moses Cone Manor in Blowing Rock, North Carolina.

Did it remind me of  another mansion or plantation that I have previously photographed?

I tried to recall, but nothing came to me.

Still.  Here I was standing here.  Stalking an empty house in a strange city.

A middle-aged woman in sensible shoes and flowered pants lugging a camera.

(I was trending, not blending.)

This has happened before.  I refer to it as a presence.

The air is thicker, everything slows, there is a peaceful pause in time.

Was it the spirit of one of the Langhornes?

Something pulled me and held me there.

I wanted to stay, but a dog barked and broke the spell.

I moved on to wander and wonder.

FLOW on the GO