I Miss Bannock Manor
I spent so many hours thinking about Bannock Manor, wandering through the rooms and visualizing myself there that it became real to me. I have the floor plan firmly planted in my brain. I know that when you walk through the front door you are immediately in the grand foyer, the staircase is in front of you, the kitchen off to the right, the main public rooms to the left.
In my mind, I can still smell the wood paneling, tread softly on the Persian carpets, and caress sofa pillows that were embroidered by long gone ancestors. Oh, the books, how I love the books. More than I could read in a lifetime.
In bed at night, when sleep eludes me, I picture ten inch crown moldings and crystal chandeliers, hot tea in antique Spode, and beautiful views out ancient windows. Meandering along those corridors is a great antidote to insomnia; there is so much to see and think about. Eventually, after a rather pleasant jaunt, I drift into a room that leads to dreamland.
Over the course of two decades I have made many trips to Great Britain and on every occasion I have explored old manor houses. I am passionate about them, and have lost count of how many I have seen. Certainly more than one hundred. Some, like Chatsworth House or Hadden Hall, I’ve been to several times.
I am ever so grateful to the National Trust for preserving these magnificent homes for dreamers like me.
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Site photography by Deborah K. Reed.
Poetry by Lisa K. Shapiro
© 2014 by Deborah K. Reed and Lisa K. Shapiro. All Rights Reseverved.