The weekly trek around Sarobia brought about an interesting phenomenon over this past weekend. Something different awaits me always during my typical snooping around the grounds of the old Logan estate, which seems like such a magical, mystical place.
On the way to Logan’s Garden, off the beaten paths of the state park that now occupies the land, I squeezed past the hundreds of picnickers and frolickers from nearby Philly who were escaping the brutal, summer heat; swimming in the public pool, barbecuing steaks, hot dogs and hamburgers in the woods; seemingly all were having a good time.
Most likely, the majority of those happy, Sunday-afternoon campers didn’t know about the remaining structures of Sarobia’s fluorescence, undoubtedly a good thing to prevent vandalizing what’s left.
Look at what happened to HitchBOT, with meeting its demise in Philadelphia. I’d be afraid of finding Humpty Dumpty off the garden wall and on the ground in pieces, with the park’s not being able to put him back together again.
As can be seen in the above photo, the concrete statue is well-cracked as it is.
While I rounded the corner at the restrooms and water fountain, a mandatory stop for a drink, a laughing tree greeted me afterward, whose mouth I normally looked upon as an arboreal, hobbit’s hole.
A requisite photograph from up close—but not too close for what might pop out at me—is pasted below. Would you want to poke your nose inside there?
The only full-standing, intact structure leftover from Sarobia’s illustrious past, aside from the garden wall and parts of the inner-garden, is the last of the thirteen guest quarters, remaining on the property. This one sits before the entrance into the garden.
The cabin is used now for the park’s storage. It’s hard to see what’s inside by looking through the sheets of dusty Plexiglas, covering all the windows sashes, really another good idea to avoid vandalism.
For a bevy of photos, showing the garden wall and layout of the site, please click here.
Once inside Logan’s Garden, I perform a ritual usually of checking the time on the sundials, mostly in the afternoon when the sun is high above the fenced-in area. Pictures from this past weekend’s rite, as can be seen by clicking on the link previous to the photos of the sundials’ bases above, proved the hand-sculpted, time-telling devices were as accurate as can be.
After noting the accuracy of the western sundial with my compass, I attempted to line up magnetic north along the eastern sundial’s slot, as had been done on the former. Take note on the picture below of where the needle of the compass is pointing. The red tip tells where magnetic north is.
Upon my moving the compass to align its axis on the sundial’s slot, the needle moved away from magnetic north and pointed northwesterly, as if the compass was being effected by a strange force field from that area of the sundial’s face, as seen below:
Unfortunately I forgot to take a photo as to where the compass pointed truly to magnetic north again on the right side of that slot; however, I did check the time by utilizing a simpler method, using my pocket knife. Incidentally, the photo stamp on the following picture documented the time as being 14:30:51, pretty darn close for rock and roll: