The Oaken Snuggery Part 25

 

Photos by Suzanne Currie

THE OAKEN SNUGGERY. - PART 25

BY TED CURRIE

     “There was also an old man, not many years since, of a sullen, melancholy temperament, who had kept two vigils (at the parish church in England), and began to excite some talk in the village, when fortunately for the public comfort, he died shortly after his third watching; very probably from a cold that he had taken, as the night was tempestuous. It was reported about the village, however, that he had seen his own phantom pass by him into the church (on St. Mark’s Eve). This led to the mention of another superstition of an equally strange, and melancholy kind, which, however, is chiefly confined to Wales. It is respecting what are called corpse candles, little wandering fires, of a pale bluish light that move about like tapers in the open air, and are supposed to designate the way some corpse is to go. One was seen at Lanylar, late at night, hovering up and down, along the bank of Istwith, and was watched by the neighbors until they were tired, and went to bed. Not long afterwards there came a comely country lass, from Montgomeryshire, to see her friends, who dwelt on the opposite side of the river. She thought to ford the stream at the very place where the light had been first seen, but was dissuaded on account of the height of the flood. She walked to and fro along the bank, just where the candle had moved, waiting for the subsiding of the water. She at length endeavored to cross, buy the poor girl was drowned in the attempt. There was something mournful in this little anecdote of rural superstition, that seemed to affect all the listeners.” (Washington Irving, “Bracebridge Hall,” 1822)

     Before breakfast this morning, a cool start to what otherwise appears a sparkling spring day in late April, I sat in a corner chair in the Oaken Snuggery’s main room, staring at the watercolor painting of the old farmhouse, circa the 1930’s to 40’s, unsigned, but said to have been painted by a neighbor at the time, in the now ghost hamlet of Rose Hill. The brownish hue of paint and paper makes the image, with its visible damaged paper, look much older and more storied than its relatively minor heritage displayed itself to the artist’s eye. It was a plain, period style, utility farmhouse with drive shed and was set nicely onto the hilly well treed landscape. It wasn’t grandiose by any stretch, and although it appeared as if more suited to the 1850’s, it was in contrast, constructed early in the 1900’s after the death of Queen Victoria. It was to be a family home and it met the requirements adequately, until the originating family decided to sell it off a few years ago, as part of an estate settlement. The Bosevelt’s couldn’t believe their good fortune, as they had been looking for some time for a perfect location to establish a Bed and Breakfast operation, as part of their retirement interests, to be minor inn-keepers on a budget. A great many improvements and upgrades were initiated, and most completed by time The Oaken Snuggery was opened, just over a year ago, and some of the first visitors after the renovations were former family members who had deep roots in the acreage here, and of course many of the curious neighbors feeling quite upbeat about the new attraction in the community still shy of qualifying even as a hamlet. All had agreed, heartily in fact, that the Bosevelts had done a superb job keeping the old farmstead in operation after all these years, when most critics had assumed the plan was a money-pit, considering how much it was going to cost to upgrade the house to Bed and Breakfast standards; including of course added rooms to increase capacity especially during the all important summer months when there were many more guests looking for short-term accommodation. Just as many had thought the most sensible course of action, was to haul down the existing buildings on the property and start fresh with a new foundation and a modern structure that would easily meet all the fire code regulations. Admittedly this was one of the big problems and expenses for the Bosevelt’s who admit to having been quite naive about what all these fundamental improvements were going to cost, long before re-furnishing the house to satisfy patrons was given much thought, or any allocation of funds. They handled one issue at a time, and tried as much as possible to avoid having a confluence of crisis situations to sort out, and thus, it can be said they handled the whole project sensibly and efficiently from the moment they began tearing down some interior walls, and removing the old wood siding on the outside, including having all the windows and doors replaced, all of course, in keeping with the original integrity of the 1900’s farmhouse. It would be cliched to say that it had all been a labour of love, but when I talk with the Bosevelt’s about the Bed and Breakfast operation, it’s obvious they feel all the work, expense and aggravation of restoring the house was worth the due diligence they employed, and the guests seem pleased by the results, departing with many kind remarks about the comfort and historic ambience of the old but largely new farmhouse.

     The painting has an imbedded melancholy and aura of seriousness, as it relates to the history of old farms in this part of the province, having always been a struggle to achieve a prosperous economy, with the short growing season, the thin soil over rock, and the long and heavy winters that imposed greatly on the families to compromise standards, and be particularly frugal with all resources available to them. It’s not the kind of image that I would use on a greeting card, for one thing, and it was not the illustration the Bosevelt’s chose to advertise their Bed and Breakfast in the media. It wasn’t the kind of bright and cheerfully appointed art piece, that made one feel compelled to know more about it, and then, wish to visit and stay for a holiday weekend. In more ways than one the painting looks as if the house and the property is haunted. I can’t really explain why I feel this way, but obviously the Bosevelts thought somewhat the same, or it would have been used in their media presentations, and on the corner of their stationary. Instead they have a number of color photographs framed and mounted on the wall in the Great Room, several showing the stages of the restoration, which is quite interesting for guests, who I’ve seen standing up close to the images, to see the details of the work it took to re-establish the farmhouse as a going concern in the contemporary hospitality business. The painting in a rather obscure location, isn’t given much profile in the room and with lighting, such that it is probably considered by visitors as a wall decoration more than an historic artifact of the original farm house and the family who dwelled here for well more than a century before changing ownership. But at this present time, when the Bosevelts are having a little problem with a number of uninvited paranormal entities, hanging around the Snuggery, and in some cases disturbing the peace and quiet of the lodgers here, I suppose making a big deal about an old time depiction of the former farmhouse, appearing rather mysterious and potentially haunted, isn’t the best plan for marketing a Bed and Breakfast. It’s why I was asked to visit and stay at the inn for the month of April, to research the earthbound spirits that may, for some reason or another, have a petition to make against the Bosevelts, for altering their “old haunt,” in a fashion they are vehemently in opposition. I am working here mostly as a reporter / writer, and mildly so as an amateur ghost sleuth, which I have been pursuing as a pastime for about forty years. For the provision of a few meals and a roof over my head, for the month of April, it was my belief from the onset, that I could not only identify the unsettled, with-grievances ghosts, find a resolution to end the impasse, the haunting, and if unable to dispatch them to the great beyond, at least offer my hosts a solution on how to handle the occupied homestead more peacefully than what had occurred as startling circumstances in the past year. In short, I’d write them a story about the haunting, and as a compromise if that’s the best I can offer, a small published booklet to inform future guests to The Oaken Snuggery, that the cast of spirits holding court includes these interesting characters from a bygone era of this rural Muskoka property. It wouldn’t be the first Bed and Breakfast or country inn to attempt a business relationship with those entities that chose to haunt the main premises. At the Snuggery, the ghosts of two young sisters, we believe, are even haunting the property as well as the farmhouse, making it quite romantic and nostalgic for the writer, but still a tad unsettling for the proprietors who would rather have two fewer lodgers day to day, than they presently house. They’re not really in favor of the ghost-hugging idea, which admittedly was a half bail-out on my part, early in this project, when it became apparent the ghost-kind were far more savvy than I was a spiritual detective, and that a conclusion down the road was most likely going to involve compromise more than the staging of an exorcism to end the occupation of the Oaken Snuggery.

     Looking at the painting once more, while sipping the last dregs from the cup, I do feel there is a way of changing the spiritual reality around here, and making the presentation of this old watercolor of the original farmhouse more appealing to the incoming guests. To me the art work needed a better presentation than to be obscured by location, and denied proper illumination, either by the light coming through the large windows in the same room in which in hangs, or by the electric lighting that now seems to cast more of a shadow than brightness, adding to the sombre mood of the antique image. I felt the same about the spirits hanging around here, including the two girls somehow connected to this property’s heritage, although as of yet undetermined. It was all a matter of illumination but it wasn’t only about lighting. It was a matter of how acceptance of the image, and yes, the ghosts, could be enhanced by some other illuminating detail, and this would fall upon the writer / historian to change perceptions. Oh, please excuse me. Mrs. Bosevelt has just now set down a yellow ceramic bowl of freshly made bran muffins and a block of real butter, and I’m starving. I will soon return to this journal, as well, into the perspective needed, to carry on this project to a pleasing outcome. Maybe that’s possible, maybe it’s not. It depends on the disposition of a couple of prank-playing waifs who seem to be enjoying the mayhem they’re causing at The Oaken Snuggery. Time will tell, I suppose, who wins this battle of wits, between the mortal and immortal of Rose Hill, Ontario.

     I conclude today’s offering with another passage from Washington Irving, writing about rural superstitions. “I have witnessed the introduction of stories of the kind into various evening circles; they were often commenced in jest, and listened to with smiles; but I never knew the most gay or the most enlightened of audiences, that were not, if the conversation continued for any length of time, completely and solemnly interested in it. There is, I believe, a degree of superstition lurking in every mind; and I doubt if any one can thoroughly examine all his secret notions and impulses without detecting it, hidden, perhaps, even from himself. It seems, in fact, to be a part of our nature, like instinct in animals acting independently of our reason. It is often found existing in lofty natures, especially those that are poetical and aspiring. A great and extraordinary poet of our day, whose life and writings evince a mind subject to powerful exaltation, is said to believe in omens and secret intimations. Caesar, it is well known, was greatly under the influence of such belief, and Napoleon had his good and evil days, and his presiding star. As for the Parson, I have no doubt that he is strongly inclined to superstition.” Is it so wrong then to believe in the existence, on particularly haunted occasions like this, ghosts, hobgoblins and bandy legged wee beasties? I think not!