Last night, Brandi and I made a trip to see the aforementioned church without the Realtor.
It did not go well.
We found the church about 3 miles out of town on a very twisty, narrow road. The front door of the building was set back about 6 inches from the roadway such that opening the front door would have stopped traffic. The two bathrooms listed in the ad appeared to be the “his and hers” outhouses in the back yard.
Across the street, in the front yard of what appeared to be an abandoned farm house (but surprisingly wasn’t), sat no fewer that three partially disassembled automobiles (on blocks, of course), and about three dozen tires strewn randomly about the lawn. Assorted household trash was spread decoratively throughout the neighborhood.
The coon hounds tied to pickup trucks were conspicuously absent, but it was otherwise almost a textbook scene of Appalachian hillbilly squalor.
The little towns in north central PA are kind of hit or miss. Some of them are very nice and quaint. Some of them are outlandishly disgusting.
Middleburg is the latter.
I’ll keep looking.