Mark's House, Part II

Here's a side view of the 1700s house where eligible bachelor Mathews Mark lives as caretaker.

Saturday I stopped by to legally trespass take a tour.

Although we're not 100% sure who originally owned the house the current property owner sounds nothing short of a Renaissance Man. Mark said the man has been a pilot, a ski resort owner, a lawyer--I could not keep up with all the job titles.

(When I say we're not 100% sure who originally built the house, nor are we sure about all the job titles, what I mean is that Mark told me, but I did not retain those details thanks to ADD the wonderfully photogenic yard and house which distracted me. Same thing with most any other aspect of the narrated part of the tour except for the ghost story. I always pay particular attention to ghost stories.)


Here's what Mark looks like when he catches someone trespassing in his yard. He smiles and appears happy to see you; welcoming.

His mother Pookie, on the other hand, does not smile when she catches me someone trespassing on her property on Gwynn's Island. Ask me how I know, or click here to find out.

Mark invited us in and led us all around the house which is so full of character words do not apply. You have to feel it; smell it; see it; experience it.

You must crouch and duck your head as you ascend a narrow, winding stairway into a section of the house evidently reserved for 18th-century leprechauns. (We tall people were not in abundance in the 1700s I suppose.)

You must twist and wind your way through this room which adjoins that room which then leads to another cozy nook, and then to the servants' quarters which is where the ghost lives. The ghost story is for another time, but it's a good one.

In addition to the house and the resident lady ghost, there are stunningly gorgeous elm trees in the yard - one looks so old George Washington himself may have slept under it. Or maybe it was Blackbeard. Maybe Blackbeard buried some treasure down Haven Beach and to distract would-be thieves he traveled to Mathews Court House and slept in the Hardees drive-thru after waiting thirty-two minutes for an order under the tree in this yard.

Or maybe--just maybe--Chesapeake Bay Woman's imagination is so daggone lively that we've gone from a post about Eligible Bachelor Mark and his 1700s house to Blackbeard falling asleep under a tree, and it's time to snap out of it and act like we have some sense.

Stay tuned tomorrow for more shots from Saturday, including one of the aforementioned tree and another which pertains to the lady ghost.

Just don't hold your breath waiting for me to act like I have any sense.