A friend and I set out for a winter shunpike to clear our head from being lost in the mundane of seasonal blues.
Maplefields’ coffee in hand, we passed ice chunked streams, slid on muddy back roads over steep hills, and passed through still villages under alabaster gloom. It’s great to feel the lightning from these backroad GPScapades, coming to love certain old buildings, relics in yards or falling out of barns in various stages of dishevelment, or attractive geography – digging all of that character that comes with time.
Then we found this abandoned house. We parked the car, trudged through thick brush and snow while gritting our teeth at that howling wind, and found an excellent museum of the human condition – a decaying exhibition space dedicated to the science of atrophy. Any explorer knows that there is always a thrill of being in a place where then and now collide.
This house that used to be wasn’t in great condition anymore – progressively leaning in directions that destroy architecture. Relics regarding the former occupant’s proof of life still litter the now drafty rooms that shimmer with swirling dust – containing everything from antique fireman’s helmets in the stone cellar, paperwork and lots of birthday cards, tons of clothes, family photos, a very 70s kitchen, and unopened prescription pill bottles, all tangled up in a fragrant mildewy perfume. We even detected whole fragments of a former truck, curiously buried along the stream banks out back.
There was so much to observe here that I wound up making several wanders to this house, observing how much it changed with each visit. I assumed I had stumbled upon some great undetected spot – but my assumption was eliminated when I started noticing changes – some as subtle as items being moved around from visit to visit, others glaringly noticeable as certain antiques had been plundered, and some just amusing – like a cheap scarecrow with a Big Lots tag intentionally positioned up in a lower floor window, or one of several creepy dolls in the house being put in eerie arrangements.
I think the unknowns who visit these places after they become abandoned are almost as fascinating as the places themselves.
Since 2012, I’ve been seeking out venerable examples of Vermont weirdness, whether that be traveling around the state or taking to my internet connection and digging up forsaken places, oddities, esoterica, and unique natural features. And along the way, I’ve been sharing it with you on my website, Obscure Vermont. This is what keeps my spirit inspired.
I never expected Obscure Vermont to get as much appreciation and fanfare as it’s getting, and I’m truly grateful and humbled. Especially in recent years, where I’ve gained the opportunity to interact with and befriend more oddity lovers and outside the box thinkers around Vermont and New England. As Obscure Vermont has grown, I’ve been growing with it, and the developing attention is keeping me earnest and pushing me harder to be more introspective and going further into seeking out the strange.
I spend countless hours researching, writing, and traveling to keep this blog going. Obscure Vermont is funded almost entirely by generous donations. Expenses range from hosting fees to keep the blog live, investing in research materials, travel expenses and the required planning, and updating/maintaining vital tools such as my camera and my computer. I really pride and push myself to try to put out the best of what I’m able to create, and I gauge it by only posting stuff that I personally would want to see on the glow of my computer screen.
I want to continuously diversify how I write and the odd things I write about. Your patronage would greatly help me continue bringing you cool and unusual content and keep me doing what I love!
