My cabin feels very much alive, but like finding an abandoned animal, it took some warming up to me and now it seems to love me and roll me and hold me. Lucky it's alive, luckier it likes me.
When we moved to Bend in 1980 we relocated in winter and I’d given birth to our second daughter just one month prior. The house we bought seemed dreary but I figured with redecorating it’d cheer up. About 6 months in I started hearing/seeing the usual signs of a haunted house. A year later a neighbor told me that a murder had been committed in our baby daughter’s bedroom by a previous owner! I told my husband that we had to move as soon as we could.
I’m glad that you & Duncan got out of the tree house that very night. There are spirits and then there are *spirits*.
I have to say that the first time I drove in your neighborhood and saw Pie Cottage (and had no idea whose house it was), I was struck with how radiant it looked. I stopped the car for a moment to look at it and thought, "Wow - That is a house which is truly a happy place." And then I had the pleasure of meeting you and knowing that my first impression was spot on. Pie Cottage and you literally radiate joy. Whenever I go past, your house always brings a smile to my face. I'm so happy we met!
Oh, yes. Houses (esp. older ones!) are made of things which pick up and hold energies (esp. wood). My parents house was like that. When my mother died, I made a serious effort to clear the residue of years of conflict out of the house. It took several weeks of concentrated effort to achieve that before it could be put on the market for sale. I had a friend who is energy sensitive walk through afterward, and she confirmed it felt totally clean and ready for new people. I was so relieved I cried.
Hi Kate, I'm the one who asked you on "Bake and Tell" if your cinnamon cookies were pie pastry. Thank you for answering me!
Haunted house story: I was 12 when my parents bought a huge old house that had a "past". The house had been on the market for a long time because one of the men who lived in it at one time had committed suicide in the house. Ever since, whomever owned the house had a tragedy in the family. We had 3 tragedies. One was that my mother's mother developed pancreatic cancer while living there and died shortly after our family moved out.
Now, for my own personal experiences: My bedroom, on the second floor, was the room where the man had killed himself. Now, the room itself didn't seem strange, but there was an alcove just outside the bedroom door and a door that led to the third floor where the "help" used to live (way back when). Mom put a couch and a portable tv in the alcove for me and I was sitting there one night when the door to the third floor began to rattle. I got up and tried to open the door. The rattling doorknob refused to open. I hung onto it, pulling on it, for dear life and screamed for my parents. Dad came running upstairs, grabbed the doorknob and was able to open it. He went upstairs and found nothing out of the ordinary. He thought maybe he had left a window open as his drawing tables were up there (he was an architect). I don't remember ever sitting in the alcove again.
One night, I had gotten up to use the bathroom and stood at the top of the stairs hearing the chairs being rearranged in the dining room. I went over to my parents door and peeked in. They were both in bed. Who was rearranging chairs in the dining room? I could hear them being scuffled around. The dining room was directly below the staircase and to the left.
2nd tragedy that happened there was that my parents lost their shirts in that house and had to give it back to the bank. The day we left, I looked up at one of the windows to my bedroom and had the feeling that I was being stared at as we left. We lived there 2 years. I can still feel that feeling of being stared at.
3rd tragedy: My thyroid stopped working and I almost died during those two years in that house. I'm 71 and have been on medication ever since then.
I still remember that feeling that someone was holding that door knob closed. I could feel the pressure on the other side. I was 12.
Not so fun going down memory lane on that house! LOL!
I am so glad you are out of THAT house, Mel! The second house I lived in when growing up, a beautiful home on Santa Barbara's upper eastside, had a funny feeling to it...not a bad one...just that there was 'something.' The son of the original owners had passed away while living there and I've often wondered if it might have been him and that is where he wanted to stay.
Vivid, gripping story of your time in the Treehouse, Kate. Thankful you survived! My husband, Alan, is a paranormal investigator and has had many strange experiences in haunted houses. The place we live in now has a strong spiritual energy but thankfully, it's a positive infusion. Some neighbors talk about the area being a spiritual vortex that attracts certain people. It's a former silver mining town of the Old West. Our homes sit atop land that was once roamed by miners, cowboys and saloon owners. The land is strewn with many remnants of its colorful past such as pieces of old pottery, broken glass and parts of tin cans from the 1800s. I have heard of a few credible ghost sightings here. Prior to finding this special place, we spent six months renting an impersonal, cavernous house in Las Vegas. Neither one of us felt comfortable there. Alan, who loves to cook, couldn't bring himself to make a serious meal there. Pigeons covered the roof and when I ventured out in the yard, I felt like I was caught in an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Thank God, the vortex beckoned us north.
It was one of the happiest days of my life when I was able to pass that place on to others. I do feel that during my time there, I made it better. It's just what I do. I think I have finally figured out that since I can't fix others, I can fix the places that I live. At The Tree House, as much as possible I tried to shift energy to feeling more positive but it was so like a bottomless pit, Teri. I have no idea of what happened there to make it like that, I just know that the house would have done me in if I had stayed. I walked away with nothing when I sold it. I had paid for the house in full when I bought it, and the repairs were so extensive that they ate up everything that I sold it for. Oh that I had known you and Alan back then. I imagine that before he walked in he would have felt the energy and said, "nope, no way are you living here." But, the lessons I learned there were powerful and perhaps this is the only way I would have learned them. I'm very grateful to be living in the sweet place I call home now...and to be alive.
There are Tree Houses and there are Treehouses, aren’t there, Kate?
Your vivid story of your home in your 40s reminds me of finding the Treehouse in which I’ve lived since ‘87 when I was 41... 35 heavenly years that I would not trade for anywhere in the world. I picked it out from one of those black and white old real estate prints pre online sales pages. Walked into the living room of redwood and glass and instantly told the broker, “You can write up the papers. This is my house.” He thought I was crazy. I’m not hanging in branches...doubt I could live thus. But the various levels and simple bedrooms and kitchen have been perfect for this writer/poet.
I hope you’ll make your way here, Kate, for a visit, to know that living this way in wine country is ideal. Sorry about that blunt knife and its foreboding....xoxo Toni
Keep thinking about a visit, Kate...I bet you have many friends in this small part of our state, as well as driving down and home again...Let me know...
I admire you for your perseverance and coping with the house and how depressingly cold it must have been. And, of course, how strong it made you. And I wouldn't be at all surprised if there was something still hanging around from the cows or...who knows what? This is a great story of yours. When I describe how challenging my days on the Oregon coast were, I use the mushrooms-in-the-closet story. NOTHING compared to yours!
The house of my dreams, on a corner lot in Sammamish with beautiful paper ash trees and Korean Dogwoods. It was the most wonderful house - I simply loved it. I raised my daughter there and it saw many gatherings, super bowl parties and come-one-come-all Thanksgiving's. It had the best juju. I gardened, cooked and made plans for my daughter's college. It was all wonderful.
Until I started seeing -- spirits or ghosts. I know you are rolling your eyes (lol) but I have so many stories - from 3 women standing at the foot of my bed (from the 70's) shaking their heads at me, then leaving through a wall, to my now Ex's aunt the night she passed. The most terrifying experience involved a man who looked like someone out of a western, with a long duster, cowboy hat, menacing look and it was raining on him... looked at me and raised a hand... disappeared. I am not into anything really spiritual, although being raised by a Baptist family, was not particularly religious. I never really thought about people from the other side, or whatever you want to believe. It became worse as my daughter grew up - she was 13 when I saw a lady in front of her room looking at me and crying...
It was that week when events unfolded, and to make a long long story short, my ex husband was found, after 12 years of marriage, to be a criminal. Now gone, house sold, (regrets) I still feel like the house misses me, I sure miss it.
No one comes to visit anymore gratefully. Although terrified at the time, I am thankful they put my alarm bells up enough to start paying attention to the fact that they were trying to tell me something. With the exception of the lady at the door, my husband was always present.
This place just had weird juju energy. Later I found out that the house had been built on a mountain meadow that the cows used to use as their birthing grounds. Makes you wonder what shifted when trees were cut down and the house was built there depriving the cows of that special spot. I'm glad that you cohabited with Barbara the Benign!
My cabin feels very much alive, but like finding an abandoned animal, it took some warming up to me and now it seems to love me and roll me and hold me. Lucky it's alive, luckier it likes me.
From the words in you stack, Kelton, there seems to be a symbiosis between the cabin and you. Indeed you are lucky!
When we moved to Bend in 1980 we relocated in winter and I’d given birth to our second daughter just one month prior. The house we bought seemed dreary but I figured with redecorating it’d cheer up. About 6 months in I started hearing/seeing the usual signs of a haunted house. A year later a neighbor told me that a murder had been committed in our baby daughter’s bedroom by a previous owner! I told my husband that we had to move as soon as we could.
I’m glad that you & Duncan got out of the tree house that very night. There are spirits and then there are *spirits*.
Wow! I think I recall hearing that real estate agents and sellers have to tell owners now if there have been deaths or worse in houses.
I have to say that the first time I drove in your neighborhood and saw Pie Cottage (and had no idea whose house it was), I was struck with how radiant it looked. I stopped the car for a moment to look at it and thought, "Wow - That is a house which is truly a happy place." And then I had the pleasure of meeting you and knowing that my first impression was spot on. Pie Cottage and you literally radiate joy. Whenever I go past, your house always brings a smile to my face. I'm so happy we met!
Jai
Hello, Kate
Oh, yes. Houses (esp. older ones!) are made of things which pick up and hold energies (esp. wood). My parents house was like that. When my mother died, I made a serious effort to clear the residue of years of conflict out of the house. It took several weeks of concentrated effort to achieve that before it could be put on the market for sale. I had a friend who is energy sensitive walk through afterward, and she confirmed it felt totally clean and ready for new people. I was so relieved I cried.
jai
We hold on to feelings. Makes sense to me that our homes would, too.
Hi Kate, I'm the one who asked you on "Bake and Tell" if your cinnamon cookies were pie pastry. Thank you for answering me!
Haunted house story: I was 12 when my parents bought a huge old house that had a "past". The house had been on the market for a long time because one of the men who lived in it at one time had committed suicide in the house. Ever since, whomever owned the house had a tragedy in the family. We had 3 tragedies. One was that my mother's mother developed pancreatic cancer while living there and died shortly after our family moved out.
Now, for my own personal experiences: My bedroom, on the second floor, was the room where the man had killed himself. Now, the room itself didn't seem strange, but there was an alcove just outside the bedroom door and a door that led to the third floor where the "help" used to live (way back when). Mom put a couch and a portable tv in the alcove for me and I was sitting there one night when the door to the third floor began to rattle. I got up and tried to open the door. The rattling doorknob refused to open. I hung onto it, pulling on it, for dear life and screamed for my parents. Dad came running upstairs, grabbed the doorknob and was able to open it. He went upstairs and found nothing out of the ordinary. He thought maybe he had left a window open as his drawing tables were up there (he was an architect). I don't remember ever sitting in the alcove again.
One night, I had gotten up to use the bathroom and stood at the top of the stairs hearing the chairs being rearranged in the dining room. I went over to my parents door and peeked in. They were both in bed. Who was rearranging chairs in the dining room? I could hear them being scuffled around. The dining room was directly below the staircase and to the left.
2nd tragedy that happened there was that my parents lost their shirts in that house and had to give it back to the bank. The day we left, I looked up at one of the windows to my bedroom and had the feeling that I was being stared at as we left. We lived there 2 years. I can still feel that feeling of being stared at.
3rd tragedy: My thyroid stopped working and I almost died during those two years in that house. I'm 71 and have been on medication ever since then.
I still remember that feeling that someone was holding that door knob closed. I could feel the pressure on the other side. I was 12.
Not so fun going down memory lane on that house! LOL!
I am so glad you are out of THAT house, Mel! The second house I lived in when growing up, a beautiful home on Santa Barbara's upper eastside, had a funny feeling to it...not a bad one...just that there was 'something.' The son of the original owners had passed away while living there and I've often wondered if it might have been him and that is where he wanted to stay.
Vivid, gripping story of your time in the Treehouse, Kate. Thankful you survived! My husband, Alan, is a paranormal investigator and has had many strange experiences in haunted houses. The place we live in now has a strong spiritual energy but thankfully, it's a positive infusion. Some neighbors talk about the area being a spiritual vortex that attracts certain people. It's a former silver mining town of the Old West. Our homes sit atop land that was once roamed by miners, cowboys and saloon owners. The land is strewn with many remnants of its colorful past such as pieces of old pottery, broken glass and parts of tin cans from the 1800s. I have heard of a few credible ghost sightings here. Prior to finding this special place, we spent six months renting an impersonal, cavernous house in Las Vegas. Neither one of us felt comfortable there. Alan, who loves to cook, couldn't bring himself to make a serious meal there. Pigeons covered the roof and when I ventured out in the yard, I felt like I was caught in an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Thank God, the vortex beckoned us north.
It was one of the happiest days of my life when I was able to pass that place on to others. I do feel that during my time there, I made it better. It's just what I do. I think I have finally figured out that since I can't fix others, I can fix the places that I live. At The Tree House, as much as possible I tried to shift energy to feeling more positive but it was so like a bottomless pit, Teri. I have no idea of what happened there to make it like that, I just know that the house would have done me in if I had stayed. I walked away with nothing when I sold it. I had paid for the house in full when I bought it, and the repairs were so extensive that they ate up everything that I sold it for. Oh that I had known you and Alan back then. I imagine that before he walked in he would have felt the energy and said, "nope, no way are you living here." But, the lessons I learned there were powerful and perhaps this is the only way I would have learned them. I'm very grateful to be living in the sweet place I call home now...and to be alive.
There are Tree Houses and there are Treehouses, aren’t there, Kate?
Your vivid story of your home in your 40s reminds me of finding the Treehouse in which I’ve lived since ‘87 when I was 41... 35 heavenly years that I would not trade for anywhere in the world. I picked it out from one of those black and white old real estate prints pre online sales pages. Walked into the living room of redwood and glass and instantly told the broker, “You can write up the papers. This is my house.” He thought I was crazy. I’m not hanging in branches...doubt I could live thus. But the various levels and simple bedrooms and kitchen have been perfect for this writer/poet.
I hope you’ll make your way here, Kate, for a visit, to know that living this way in wine country is ideal. Sorry about that blunt knife and its foreboding....xoxo Toni
I've been thinking about driving down to see you for years and I would love to experience YOUR Treehouse.
Keep thinking about a visit, Kate...I bet you have many friends in this small part of our state, as well as driving down and home again...Let me know...
Yikes!
I admire you for your perseverance and coping with the house and how depressingly cold it must have been. And, of course, how strong it made you. And I wouldn't be at all surprised if there was something still hanging around from the cows or...who knows what? This is a great story of yours. When I describe how challenging my days on the Oregon coast were, I use the mushrooms-in-the-closet story. NOTHING compared to yours!
The house of my dreams, on a corner lot in Sammamish with beautiful paper ash trees and Korean Dogwoods. It was the most wonderful house - I simply loved it. I raised my daughter there and it saw many gatherings, super bowl parties and come-one-come-all Thanksgiving's. It had the best juju. I gardened, cooked and made plans for my daughter's college. It was all wonderful.
Until I started seeing -- spirits or ghosts. I know you are rolling your eyes (lol) but I have so many stories - from 3 women standing at the foot of my bed (from the 70's) shaking their heads at me, then leaving through a wall, to my now Ex's aunt the night she passed. The most terrifying experience involved a man who looked like someone out of a western, with a long duster, cowboy hat, menacing look and it was raining on him... looked at me and raised a hand... disappeared. I am not into anything really spiritual, although being raised by a Baptist family, was not particularly religious. I never really thought about people from the other side, or whatever you want to believe. It became worse as my daughter grew up - she was 13 when I saw a lady in front of her room looking at me and crying...
It was that week when events unfolded, and to make a long long story short, my ex husband was found, after 12 years of marriage, to be a criminal. Now gone, house sold, (regrets) I still feel like the house misses me, I sure miss it.
No one comes to visit anymore gratefully. Although terrified at the time, I am thankful they put my alarm bells up enough to start paying attention to the fact that they were trying to tell me something. With the exception of the lady at the door, my husband was always present.
WOW! I think "they" are with us all the time but we don't see and are told to shake off those feelings. They were sure telling you something, Johna.
Absolutely... :) I think my cat sees them lol
Chilling story! (Literally.) I've never lived in such a house, but DID live in a haunted house. The ghost, Barbara, was benign, thank heaven.
This place just had weird juju energy. Later I found out that the house had been built on a mountain meadow that the cows used to use as their birthing grounds. Makes you wonder what shifted when trees were cut down and the house was built there depriving the cows of that special spot. I'm glad that you cohabited with Barbara the Benign!